


Within the Lair of the Dark Lord

by AltheaG



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark, Death Eaters, F/M, LGBTQ Character, Lord Voldemort - Freeform, M/M, Marauders' Era, Regulus Black - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 33
Words: 90,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltheaG/pseuds/AltheaG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://tinypic.com?ref=zaiys"></a><img/><br/>Image by Glow @ the-dark-arts.net</p><p>Brilliant. Dark. Ambitious. Vulnerable. The teenaged Severus Snape was warned by his mother to stay away from the likes of Regulus Black. He was told again and again that moving in the same circles as Lucius Malfoy and the Black family would only lead to trouble. So why did he do it? What possibly could have drawn Severus Snape so far into darkness? And can he ever get himself out of the lair of the Dark Lord?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Certain Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story because I was really interested in the animosity between Severus and Sirius. I was also interested in the story of Regulus, and I started to think that perhaps what happened to Regulus might explain why Sirius hated Severus so much. So let me know what you think! I'm dying to know how you like it! Thanks for reading my story!

For as long as Severus Snape could remember, his mother, Eileen, had told him that he was too sullen, too serious for his own good.

“Life is too short for you to be so serious all the time,” she told him time and time again.

She didn’t get it, as far as Severus was concerned. Most days, he could never understand his mother. On the one hand, she seemed to encourage him to be upbeat, positive, ambitious, and then the next thing he knew, she allowed herself to be mentally beaten down by her husband, as if she were worth less than the rag she used to wipe the floor. Who was she, after all? Who was he? Who was his father?

Severus often found himself caught up in these philosophical reveries, lost to the present by a tornado of troubling thoughts and dangerous proclivities. These moments had inspired his very worst habits, his dark musings and murderous plots. Yet those were the moments when Severus felt most alive, supremely empowered and vital for a change. These opportunities vanished, however, the moment he was in the presence of other people, and so, for much of his waking, independent hours, Severus strove to be alone.

He had been relatively happy in the last five years at Hogwarts, or at least content. Severus found his place early on at the school as an enigmatic, potentially explosive individual that few wanted to mess with, student or teacher. Severus liked that lethal aura he could project at will, and he worked assiduously to nurture that reputation. Most people simply avoided him, and those whom he counted as friends or at least associates would just shrug and take it all in stride. “There goes Severus again, off to the Potions laboratory again to blow up some helpless creature.” At the same time, he occasionally found himself courted by some of the older students at the school, the wealthy, powerful, influential and sometimes cruel clique run by the likes of Rabastan Lestrange and Narcissa Black. 

Severus remembered Narcissa Black especially well, though she was already a Sixth Year by the time Severus arrived at Hogwarts. Not only was she wealthy and prominent, but she was also very pretty and disarmingly alluring at times—Severus remembered always quivering just a little at the sight of her veil of blonde hair, which tumbled around her slender shoulders like a garment of fragrant flowers. In the Slytherin common room, Narcissa would seek him out and muss his hair and call him a little moppet, and then turn around and ask for the more lurid details of experiments he’d done on a mouse or a porcupine. He missed that.

Sometimes when he went home for the dreadful summer months, Severus would rehearse his bombastic attitude on his parents and neighbours, which usually resulted in a sharp backhand from his muggle father and tears and worrying from his witch mother. The neighbours didn’t visit much when Severus was home, fearing what he might say or do. They didn’t like the dark, odd-looking clothes he wore, that he seemed to care little for his appearance or for his reputation. To them, Severus was a sociopathic loner headed for disaster and prison.

In her more attentive moments, Eileen tried to reform her son, to get him to dress a little nicer, to comb his hair and straighten up his room, at least to open the blinds. Severus’ response to these urgings was defiance, which usually resulted in another backhand from Tobias, his father. Tobias would then bellow at Eileen for the next two hours, calling her a failure and Severus a freak of nature. In those harrowing moments, Severus would escape to the woods, sometimes nearby and sometimes far off, in the Lake District or near the Tor. Severus neglected to tell his teachers or peers or mother that he taught himself to apparate when he was thirteen, four years early. Then again, he neglected to tell them a lot of things, that he had invented spells that could maim and even murder, and that he had created a poison immune even to a bezoar or unicorn blood.

He thought of telling Regulus Black, but balked at that. Though Regulus was a year younger than Severus, he was one of the few people that Severus respected, and not just because Regulus was handsome and brash and clever, nor because he came from one of the leading wizarding families or that he was pureblooded. It was more than just that. After all, Regulus’ older brother, Sirius, was in Severus’ year, yet Severus detested the boy. Plus, after what Sirius and his comrade, James Potter, did to him, Severus loathed him, nearly to the point of murder.

But Regulus was different from his insipid older brother. Somehow, he managed to retain an air of princely elegance and strength about him, all the while portraying a certain hardness and calculating brutality about him that Severus especially appreciated. He wanted that, too, to be able to carry himself tall and proud, but to be wild and inscrutable at the same time. He attempted to foster that image, yet most of the time it backfired on him, especially after Sirius and James attacked him after their OWL’s.

Like stalkers, they had baited him, drawn him out, suckered him into violence, and then ambushed him. True, none of the spells they used were particularly dangerous—no one died from the Scourgify spell or from the Impedimenta spell. But that wasn’t the point. What lingered and burned in his mind was the faces of his peers around him, twisted in raucous laughter at his expense, not a single person willing to stop the attack or help him in any way. Rather, they stood like stone gargoyles all around him, demented and cold while he struggled to hang onto the last vestiges of the dignity he had tried to foster for so many months.

And then the attack was over, just like that, as James let him fall in ruined heap, like so many spent matchsticks. The laughter died away but the shame he felt lasted, burrowing down into the hard core of his heart where it lingered and grew like tentacles, latching tight to his soul.

The only person to speak up for him at the time was a mudblood, Lily Evans, and even she turned on him in the end. Even she nearly laughed at him. Severus banished that from his memory, however, preferring to find solace in the notion of being forsaken even by someone he had once considered to be a friend, a close friend. Regulus wouldn’t let himself get so rattled by a prank, even if it was in public. Severus rebuked himself for being weak and vulnerable as he rushed, tall as he could manage, back to the safety of his room in Slytherin House, where he stashed himself until the start of the next exam, his face still burning from the humiliation. Normally, only his father taunted him like that, and even then, it was in the privacy of their home.

But what James and Sirius had done, Severus concluded, was unforgivable. They would pay one day, he was sure of that. He would make sure of it personally.

“You can’t waste your life’s energy on that lot,” Regulus told him the next day. Severus was still ranting mutinously against them and had spent the morning tearing down James and Sirius to Regulus. “You know my brother. He’s a hopeless tosser, hanging around with Potter, forgetting his place and his status. Just remember that it’s stupid ponces like them who will lose out in the end. You and me, Sev, we’re the future of the wizarding world. Just ponder on that.”

That was easier said than done. In fact, it was an act worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself that Severus actually managed to show his face in the Great Hall for breakfast, back straight, shoulders squared, black eyes focused on the fluffy eggs and crispy bacon on his plate as all the students ate and chattered on about summer plans and worried about test results. Severus made a conscious choice to behave as usual, unwilling to show just how much the attack had distressed him. Even when he heard Sirius’ usual barking voice going on about grey underpants, Severus merely swatted it away like a gnat, then helped himself to seconds of breakfast. Regulus kicked him under the table.

“My brother is threatening to run off to Potter’s,” he said loudly. “Personally I can’t wait! I hate the stink of blood-traitors fouling up the house.”

A few at the Slytherin table, Severus included, chuckled lightly.

Encouraged by the favorable reaction, Regulus raised an eyebrow and winked at Severus. “I hear that my brother and Potter…uh…get UP to more than just fiddling with their wands when they’re alone in Potter’s bedroom!” Regulus proclaimed at the top of his voice.

More laughter this time.

Cassius Avery leaned in toward them. “That’s why Evans won’t date Potter,” he crowed. “She wants someone who’s all man, not some twisted up pansy like him!”

“Why do you think Potter wanted to take off your underpants yesterday, Sev?” Regulus said even louder. “He was checking you out, mate, making sure you’ve got the goods! You’d better make sure he’s not stalking you in dark corners or you might not walk right ever again!”

They all screeched with laughter, the volume reaching a shrill crescendo as both Gryffindors approached, scowling with disgust. Regulus looked blithely over his shoulder at his brother and rolled his dark, glittering eyes. It amazed him how much the two brothers looked alike, yet how entirely different they were. Potter stood next to him in bespectacled glory, hands on hips like an old nag, ready to bite.

“Oh, hello, Sirius,” Regulus purred. “All ready for the getting it off? Isn’t that illegal in this country?”

Cassius choked. Severus smirked but remained silent.

“So, little brother,” Sirius growled. “Ready to terrorise the masses this summer?”

Regulus shrugged. “Only the ones who deserve it, which of course, is most people. But don’t worry, big brother, I’ll let greater powers take care of you.” He eyed Severus and laughed.

Sirius folded his arms and shook his head. “It’s no wonder you’re fucked in the head, Regulus, running with a greasy toe-rag like Snivellus here.”

“Better fucked in the head than where you get it from Potter,” Regulus shot back, grinning from ear to ear.

“Why don’t you sod off, Sirius,” Evan Rosier snapped. “Go back to your boyfriend and plot your next striptease act! I’m trying to keep my breakfast down!”

It wasn’t exactly friendship, Severus concluded, but it was a sort of camaraderie, a semblance of support and even allegiance that he felt when he was with the likes of Regulus and Cassius and their friends. They were almost his friends, though Severus prevented himself from growing too close to them emotionally. He knew better than to allow emotional entanglements tear him up as they had done so often before. He’d been through enough disappointment and betrayal to last him a lifetime—thus, basking in their presence and allowing them to speak on his behalf was enough for Severus, at least for now.

“Hey,” Evan said to the group, “you all hear about the big bash at Malfoy Manor at the start of July?”

Regulus ran his fingers through his dark hair and sighed dramatically. “Oh, that. Of course, he has a big blowout party every summer. Didn’t I see you there last summer, Avery? Perhaps I was mistaken.”

Cassius blushed lightly. It struck Severus that neither Cassius nor Evan had been to the party, though both boys pretended to simply shrug it off as if it were just another event in a long string of events in their limited social lives. But no one could doubt the importance of attending such a party, at a grand palace like Malfoy Manor. After all, Lucius Malfoy had been notorious during his years at Hogwarts, as had his other associates, including the Black sisters, Bellatrix and Narcissa. It was widely speculated that they and their friends were in the inner circle of the Dark Lord, something which both fascinated and unnerved Severus.

“You coming, Sev?” Regulus asked.

The question caught Severus off-guard. After all, why would they want someone like him around? He was poor, skinny, unpopular, unattractive, and now, the big-nosed object of public ridicule. As far as Severus was concerned, the only thing he really had going for him was a penchant for the Dark Arts, and he was sure that a formidable bastard like Lucius Malfoy knew streets more about the subject, especially if he did have a direct connection to the Dark Lord. Still…

“I may,” he replied, attempting to sound flippant.

Regulus laughed. “You’re so full of shit, Snape,” he joked. “What, so if you have the time, you’ll deign to attend the party?”

Severus kicked him back under the table. “Something like that, Black.” He smirked.

Regulus threw his shoulders back and raised his chin haughtily. “Well, then, we shall make grand preparations for your imminent arrival, oh magnificent One,” he replied in mock subservience.

Severus raised an eyebrow and bowed his head slightly. “I think you should.”

Evan looked on, confused. “So you’re going?”

Severus rolled his eyes in exasperation. Regulus threw a potato wedge at Evan.

“You’re so thick, Rosier! It’s hard to believe your father made it as high up as he did!”

Evan snarled. “At least I don’t got any blood-traitors in my family!”

Severus’ eyes widened. “At least Black can speak English properly.” He stood up and collected his books and notes. “Gentlemen, until later.”

But Regulus jumped up and grabbed his schoolbag, following Severus out of the Great Hall. As they passed the Gryffindor table, both boys made sure not to give a single look at Sirius or his friends. Out of the corner of his eye, however, Severus noticed that their ratty little friend, Pettigrew, looked rather longingly at Regulus as they strode onward. He could also feel Sirius’ desire to shout out another insult at both of them, and his restraint, inspired by Remus Lupin.

In the Entrance Hall, Regulus burst into laughter, doubling over and slapping his own thighs. Severus looked on quizzically—this was typical Regulus behaviour, and now he wondered what Regulus would say next.

“Those guys are so stupid!” Regulus snorted.

“Who? The Gryffindorks?”

“No, idiot! Avery and Rosier! There is no yearly bash at the Malfoys! I was just kidding!”

“So there’s not one this year?” Severus asked, not wanting to sound fawning or desperate, but wanting to know the truth.

“Oh there is this year. Special occasion I hear. Lucius’ old man is inviting a ton of important people, and to be honest, it would be a very good move for you to come.” Regulus took out a small scroll of parchment and thrust it in Severus’ hand. “Forget Rosier and Avery, no matter who their fathers are. The two of them would say anything to get ahead in the world, Sev, but you and I both know it’s not what you say. It’s what you do, the loyalty you show.”

Severus reddened a little, but nodded confidently. “That’s why it’s best to say as little as possible,” he reasoned. He pocketed the scroll for now.

“True. Say, I don’t know what your plans are for the summer, but I do know that my cousins are planning a visit pretty soon, right before the Malfoy party. You were pretty sweet on Narcissa, right?”

Again, Severus fought back his self-consciousness. “She still with Malfoy?” he asked.

“I hear he’s threatening to marry her. Strange lot, the Malfoys.” Regulus cuffed Severus on the arm. “Catch you at dinner, Sev. Let me know your plans, alright?”

“Later.” Severus stood for a moment, watching Regulus strut off, around the corner and out of sight. He wondered.


	2. The Headmaster's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He couldn’t get beyond it. The wound was too fresh, too deep. He had lost too much in the space of just a few scant minutes, making Severus wonder whether he would ever be the same after such an event. He felt assaulted, insulted, degraded and stomped on. No Prefect put a stop to the attack, and Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, seemed to favour bullies like Potter and Black, practically giving them license to do what they wanted to whomever they wanted. It was proof that when it came right down to it, he could not rely on a single person at that entire school, perhaps in the entire wizarding world, to stand up for him or stand with him._
> 
> _No, Severus concluded. All he had was himself._

He couldn’t get beyond it. The wound was too fresh, too deep. He had lost too much in the space of just a few scant minutes, making Severus wonder whether he would ever be the same after such an event. He felt assaulted, insulted, degraded and stomped on. As he watched the other students wander out of the Great Hall, heading back to their Houses, Severus felt a chill overwhelm his heart. It was a confirmation, the whole damn attack. No Prefect put a stop to it, and Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, seemed to favour bullies like Potter and Black, practically giving them license to do what they wanted to whomever they wanted. It was proof that when it came right down to it, he could not rely on a single person at that entire school, perhaps in the entire wizarding world, to stand up for him or stand with him.

No, Severus concluded. All he had was himself.

He would have to change his demeanour if he was thus to survive the wide world on his own. He would need to veil his emotions, shield his thoughts, guard his heart’s core, even in the most tender of moments—should he experience any moments of tenderness. Severus wasn’t so sure he ever would.

Thus, it came as a shock to him when a First Year Slytherin girl timorously approached him, looking too afraid to utter a word to him. Severus noticed that the small, blonde girl’s eyes were fixed on his nose. He turned his face slightly to make it less visible, or at least less prominent.

“What?” he snapped at her. “Or did you just come to stare at me?”

The girl trembled. “Pr…Prof…essor Dumbledore w…wants to…to…to see you, S…Severus,” she mumbled in a voice so soft, he had to incline his ear to hear her properly.

“Now?”

She only nodded, then scampered off like a ladybug in flight. Furious and grim, Severus stomped off towards the Head’s office, going over in his mind exactly what he wanted to say. But as he approached the open door of the office, Severus drew a blank, especially at the sight of not only Professor Dumbledore, but also of Professor Slughorn, Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and a smug though slightly cowed James Potter and Sirius Black. They all sat in hard, wooden chairs in an arc, with Dumbledore at the centre, behind his massive desk. Severus could only stand there, goggling at the sight.

“You summoned me, sir?” he asked stiffly. He imagined using Garroting Gas on the lot of them.

Dumbledore conjured yet another chair. “Please, Mr. Snape, sit.”

Severus remained on his feet. He folded his arms indignantly, waiting for Dumbledore to speak further.

“He’s such a prat,” James whispered to Sirius, who rolled his eyes impatiently at Severus.

“That will do, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said sternly.

“Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore continued, “it has come to my attention that you were attacked yesterday afternoon by these two fine specimens, when I was unfortunately away from the school.”

“What of it?” Severus sneered.

“Mr. Lupin told me the details of the attack…”

“And did not one thing to stop it,” Severus growled, cutting across the Headmaster. “Did he tell you that?”

“He has expressed his regrets to me about that,” Dumbledore continued. “And I must ask you not to interrupt me.”

Severus shut his eyes for a moment, to gather in his rampaging emotions. “Sorry, sir,” he conceded. “But I must say that he has not expressed a single regret to me personally.”

Remus stood up, ignoring an audible grunt from Sirius. “Look, Severus, you’re right. I was a pillock yesterday, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

Severus looked away, casting his eyes on Lily, who turned her face from him in a huff. He felt a terrible twinge of guilt just then, because he knew that in his loss of control, he had crossed a line with her, calling her what he shouldn’t have. But why should she be so angry? She wasn’t the one abused and humiliated in front of the whole bloody world! Severus scowled at her and turned back to Dumbledore.

“Well?” Dumbledore asked him. “Do you accept Mr. Lupin’s apology?”

Severus pondered a moment. “No, sir, I do not.”

James groaned in exasperation. “For gods’ sake, Snivellus!”

But Dumbledore turned on him. “That is enough, Mr. Potter!” he said harshly, his words like javelins. “You are in enough trouble as it is! Mr. Snape…Severus, I called you into this office to assure you that the school is taking this incident very seriously. Bullying is never okay, and all our students deserve to live in an atmosphere of respect. I also want to give you my most sincere apology as Headmaster, because an incident like this is a reflection on me as well as on the perpetrators. Do you understand this, Severus?”

Severus knew Dumbledore was sincere, but he wasn’t ready to give any emotional ground away just yet. “What is their punishment, sir?” he demanded.

“That, Severus, is confidential, though considering that both Miss Evans and Mr. Lupin are Prefects and did little to nothing to stop the attack, they are both receiving a severe reprimand. As for Mr. Potter and Mr. Black, I am not at liberty to disclose their punishment to you, but I can assure you that it is quite severe.”

What could Severus say? The issue had been acknowledged, taken seriously, and handled quickly. In the end, all Severus could mutter through clenched teeth was a stilted “Thank you, Professor Dumbledore.”

After Dumbledore dismissed everyone, however, he called on Severus to remain behind. Dumbledore motioned for Severus to sit down on the black, leather settee on the far wall of the office, settling down next to him. Dumbledore eyed Severus closely, assiduously, as if searching for the smallest blemish.

“I hear you are quite friendly with Regulus Black,” he said.

“So?”

“You do know that Mr. Black has some rather shady connections, do you not?”

“Does that preclude me from being his acquaintance?”

Dumbledore sat back luxuriously and crossed one leg over the other. “No, not necessarily. You are aware that people like Mr. Black look down on those are not pureblooded.”

Severus blushed. “What’s your point, sir?”

Dumbledore sat forward now, putting a fatherly hand on Severus’ shoulder. “Severus, I know how vulnerable you are and how much you…”

But Severus jumped to his feet at that. “I am not in need of psychological counseling, sir!” he snapped. “And I am perfectly able to make my own judgements about who I choose to associate with! Why don’t you save your big talk for prats like Potter and Pettigrew!”

“You will not be disrespectful, Severus,” Dumbledore retorted. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but that is not an excuse for you to turn around and disrespect me! If you want respect from others, you have to earn it, and quite frankly, spending time with the likes of Regulus Black and Cassius Avery is not helping you!”

Severus took in a deep breath through his nose. “Is that all, then, sir?”

Again, Dumbledore scrutinised Severus from head to toe. His features softened. “Yes, Mr. Snape. That is all. Off you go.”

* * * * *

He knew he would have to say something to her. Better sooner than later. After all, the students were set to leave for home in no time, and the last thing Severus wanted was for Lily to go away still angry with him for calling her a mudblood. They had been friends for too long, and she was often the only person willing to speak up for him and make excuses for his sometimes odd behaviour. Severus knew that he if lost her, he had nothing at all, and he now feared that she had made a definitive choice.

To his dismay, Severus found her to be as unsympathetic as he had been toward Lupin. He had camped out for hours before the Gryffindor portrait-hole, mulling over what he would say to her without having to grovel at her feet. She was short with him, indignant, frustrated. Severus found that no matter what he said, she refused to hear him. Her rebuke of him was tantamount to saying, “I’m done with you, Severus. We are no longer friends.”

And that was it. Lily swept away, disappearing into the Gryffindor common room, leaving him alone in the dark once again.

Severus didn’t return to Slytherin House right away, but instead, wandered out of the castle, into the fresh, night air, crisp and electric. Tears threatened to destroy him in that ripple of peace, but Severus fought them back, rubbing his tired eyes with his slim fingertips. He pressed his eyes hard so that after a few seconds he could see sparkles of light and swirls of colour behind his eyelids. He thought angrily about her harsh words, which seemed to indicate to him that he was little more than an embarrassment to her, and had been for years. Bitch. No, not that. He had to stop himself from going too far, once again.

He didn’t know what to do.

Severus stuffed his chilly hands in his pockets and made his way towards the lake. The outdoors crackled around him, as if he was intimately tuned in to the energy of every single blade of grass beneath his feet, and every wisp of the night breeze against his hot cheek. He squatted down to touch the mud and muck at the lake shore—he felt the sandy firmness of it as he squeezed it between his fingers and let it fall with a dull slap to the ground. Severus gathered more of it into his hand, letting it rest on one palm as he moved his other palm over the mess, listening with every pore for the smallest ions of power that he could possibly discern within the mud, then some tree bark, then a leaf, and finally, water itself.

His hands were filthy, as were the knees of his robes, but Severus ignored that, focusing instead on the rush of power he felt as he plunged his muddy hands into the lapping waters of the Black Lake. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in a regular cadence, letting the dance of electrons within the water guide him to greater depths. Inward he went, by now totally engulfed in the water’s wild, furious magic. Severus felt his heart swell, almost to bursting, letting the entire world around him dissolve into nothingness as he filled his body with this secret, hidden power.

How he ended up waist-deep in the lake at seven the next morning remained a mystery to Severus.

“Hey!” a voice called. A male voice. A teacher.

Severus felt his stomach melt as new humiliation washed over him. He turned to see a very concerned Rubeus Hagrid rushing towards him, his giant arms outstretched, ready to rescue him. Severus wiggled his feet loose from the bottom of the lake’s floor and trudged out, taking Hagrid’s outstretched hand as he climbed ashore.

“I saw ya in there and I panicked!” Hagrid said excitedly. Severus noticed a tinge of fear in his voice, too.

“I’m fine, Hagrid,” he grumbled.

“Yer a mess,” Hagrid noted. He took out a thick blanket from his massive coat and threw it around Severus’s thin frame. “Come on, Snape, I’ll ge ya back to tha castle and ge ya a cuppa tea ta warm y’up.”

Severus quickened his pace. “I’m fine, Hagrid,” he repeated, walking as fast as he could to get away from the giant. “Thank you for the blanket.” Severus let the blanket fall to the ground as he continued towards the castle, leaving a slightly flummoxed Hagrid behind to pick up after him. Inside the Entrance Hall, Severus found an empty corridor, where he took out his wand and cleaned up his robes.

At breakfast, Severus sat at the far end of the Slytherin table, as distant as he could manage from Lily and her friends. He made sure to keep his back to her, not wanting to see her any more. Regulus joined him, as did Cassius and Evan.

“July 1,” Regulus whispered to Severus.

“What?”

“July 1. Rack and Noose. You know, that pub at Knockturn Alley?”

“What about it?”

“Private party, upstairs. Lucius is buying for the lot of us. He mentioned you, you know.”

That struck Severus as odd. “Why? He’s never met me.”

“Trust me, Sev, you’re bloody famous,” Regulus assured him.

Severus made a face, setting down his knife and fork carefully. “For what?”

Regulus chuckled, as did Cassius and Evan. “Just come, alright? Seriously, it’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“I thought the party was at Malfoy Manor,” Severus pointed out.

“Oh, that’s still on, but that’s his old man’s thing. This is just for Lucius’ personal friends. Really cool lot. Really hard core, if you know what I mean.”

Severus knew exactly what Regulus meant. Professor Dumbledore’s words came back to him just then, warning him to stay away from people like that. Severus, like everyone else, knew that Lucius ran with a gang of Death Eaters, and some speculated that Lucius was himself a Death Eater. Naturally there was no concrete proof, but then again, no one was ready to deny such a rumour. And of course, both Cassius and Evan’s fathers were Death Eaters from the very start, and they would likely follow in their footsteps…proudly.

As Severus spent time packing his things later that day, he wondered about himself. True, he had said terrible things about muggle-borns, called Lily a mudblood, called others mudbloods. But did he believe it? Again, Professor Dumbledore’s words rang in his ears. Regulus and his friends looked down on those who weren’t pureblooded. But they didn’t know Tobias Snape. They had no idea he was a muggle, and what was more, Severus had no intention of telling them. He knew he was being dishonest and that he was likely betraying his own origins, but then again…

Severus sat down on his trunk, thinking back on the power he had felt, maybe even received, from the waters of the lake. If he was that sensitive to the energy of the universe, and if he could rein it in to a sophisticated and profound level, then there was literally nothing he couldn’t do with magic. Regulus said he was already famous, already notorious for what he could do. Maybe Dumbledore was wrong. Maybe Severus was respected by his peers and elders. Why else would someone like Lucius Malfoy want him to come to the Rack and Noose for a night of hellraising with the boys?

Severus grinned inwardly. He plotted.


	3. The Rack and Noose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gripping Severus by the shoulder, he raised his glass to the hooting crowd. “Everyone, this is my dear old friend, Severus Snape!”_
> 
> _Cheers! Applause! Severus was dumbfounded, but flattered all the same. Taking his own glass of beer from the Elf, he raised it in a greeting to the crowd._
> 
> _Everyone laughed, pulling Severus into the centre of the group, where they all greeted him, shook his hand, clapped him on the back and made him feel extraordinarily welcome. So what if most of them were budding Death Eaters? Tonight was not for politics. Tonight was for getting drunk and maybe getting a snog with one of the girls at the party. That was all that cluttered Severus’ mind just then._

Together, they snaked their way down Diagon Alley, past shops and cafes and all sorts of witches and wizards dressed in bright coloured robes and flamboyant hats, milling every which way. But Severus Snape and Regulus Black had a definite destination, far from the cheery atmosphere of the “respectable” shops. Unknown mysteries and pleasures awaited them at the Rack and Noose, and neither boy would wait to arrive.

Severus hadn’t been to Knockturn Alley too often. Most days he couldn’t afford to shop for anything beyond his absolute necessities, and plus, his mother hated all that dark stuff. Over and again she had warned Severus about his connection with dangerous boys like Regulus, and over and again he chose to ignore her pleas. What did she know about it all? She didn’t have to deal with the rubbish thrown at him every day at school. True, she had to put up with Tobias and his rages, but at least he kept his hands off of her. Severus could not say the same for himself. Too many had interfered with him. Too many had driven him to…Knockturn Alley.

Knockturn Alley smelled different from Diagon Alley. It didn’t exactly stink, but there was a tinge of staleness that fluttered noxiously past Severus’ nose, making his eyes water just a bit. Even at night, the place didn’t lose its strange aura, as much as Severus tried to place his mind elsewhere. He thought of all those important people, all the wild talk of revolution and rebellion and power, yet still, that smell distracted him, if only for a brief moment.

Severus and Regulus passed Borgin and Burke’s, Malevolich’s Book Dealers, and a dozen other shops until they reached the crossroads, lit only by the candle glow from the windows of the adjacent pub: The Rack and Noose. Regulus grinned victoriously and clapped his hands together, like a six year-old visiting Honeyduke’s for the first time.

He threw a sly wink at Severus, grabbed him by the elbow and dashed across the rough, cobbled street. “Made it!” he exclaimed.

They blew through the creaky wooden door, their senses at once assaulted by the stench of stale beer, sweat and cigar smoke. The proprietor, a burly man dressed in an stained wife-beater and grey muggle trousers, stared at the two boys harshly.

“Yer underaged!” he glowered at them.

Severus took a half step back, but Regulus lifted his chin imperiously and stepped towards the bar, glancing the man up and down as if he were a blast-ended skrewt.

“We’re with the Malfoy party,” he said grandly.

The proprietor narrowed his eyes at them, then thrust his thumb up and behind him. “Upstairs.” But as Regulus started towards the stairs, the proprietor stopped Severus. “’Oo’re you, boy?”

“That BOY is with me,” Regulus said in a sniffy voice. “So if you’ll excuse us. Come on, Sev.”

Modeling after his friend, Severus raised his chin, looking down his long nose at the snarling proprietor, who had gone back to polishing beer mugs as he watched the two boys mount the rickety, narrow staircase. As they climbed, the noise of shouting and laughing grew louder and louder, reaching its crescendo as Regulus threw open the door to the private room.

“HEY!” the party seemed to shout in unison.

“REGULUS!” a young man shouted.

“Hey, Black, who’s your friend?”

Regulus laughed raucously, gleefully accepting a glass of beer from a House Elf. Gripping Severus by the shoulder, he raised his glass to the hooting crowd. “Everyone, this is my dear old friend, Severus Snape!”

Cheers! Applause! Severus was dumbfounded, but flattered all the same. Taking his own glass of beer from the Elf, he raised it in a greeting to the crowd.

“OK, now be nice to him,” Regulus joked, “because he can do some pretty scary shit!”

Everyone laughed, pulling Severus into the centre of the group, where they all greeted him, shook his hand, clapped him on the back and made him feel extraordinarily welcome. So what if most of them were budding Death Eaters? Tonight was not for politics. Tonight was for getting drunk and maybe getting a snog with one of the girls at the party. That was all that cluttered Severus’ mind just then. He drank long and deep from his mug, grabbing another from the Elf.

Through the crowd, a tall, slender but muscular young man approached noiselessly, dressed impeccably in thick satins of black and blood red. His pale blond hair was long, immaculately groomed, falling just below his strong shoulders like Samson resurrected. Severus noticed that his eyes were pale grey, sharp as a falcon’s, shrewd as a housewife’s. He drank firewhiskey from a crystal tumbler, and when he offered the same to Severus, Severus obliged. He hadn't seen Lucius Malfoy in a long time.

“You got tall,” Lucius said, his voice sleek as ice.

“You look well, Lucius,” Severus noted politely. They clinked their glasses together and drank, though the harsh whiskey burned the back of Severus’ virgin throat, making him cough just a little.

Lucius chuckled. “Practice makes perfect,” he noted glibly, effortlessly downing the entire contents of his glass in a single gulp. With a snap of his fingers, the Elf was at his side, pouring more. “That will do, Dobby,” he said, shoving the Elf aside dismissively.

Severus took another tenuous sip of his whiskey, trying to take in as much as he dared without bursting into another coughing fit. Lucius watched him carefully.

“My fiancée tells me you have become a genius,” Lucius said.

“What of it?” Severus asked.

Lucius grinned wickedly. “It’s a good thing, is it not?”

“It has its uses.”

“When properly channeled, yes?” He raised a curious eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Severus took another sip—this one was easier. He was finally getting used to the whiskey.

But Lucius only laughed. He put a brotherly arm around Severus’ shoulders and pulled him deeper into the crowd. “Bella! I’ve got fresh meat for you!” he shouted. Everyone laughed. Severus felt the back of his neck prickle as his cheeks turned a bright pink.

With the music blaring, a stunning young woman with masses of black tendrils falling down her graceful back slinked towards Severus and Lucius. Severus recognised her almost immediately as the older sister of Narcissa Black. The two looked alarmingly similar except for the colour of their hair. Severus spotted Narcissa by the corner window, drinking sherry and smoking what he was sure was not the usual tobacco, especially when daisies sprouted from her fingertips. She giggled like a schoolgirl and passed the cigarette to her girlfriends.

But Bella draped her arms around Severus’ neck, pressing her entire body against his. Her hand brushed across his chest, then down his back, only stopping when Severus shifted uncomfortably away from her. She laughed.

“See that guy over there?” she asked, pointing to a tall, husky man with wild, dark hair.

“Yeah.”

Bella giggled. “He’s my fiancé.”

“Isn’t he…”

“Rodolphus Lestrange. You know Rabastan, right? Roddy’s younger brother?”

Severus laughed. He’d never heard the infamous, violent, dark wizard referred to as “Roddy.” “Sure, I remember him.”

“He remembers you, too,” she purred, returning her hands to his shoulders. Pulling him close to her, she whispered in his ear. “I heard that you’re a powderkeg ready to explode. I can feel it in you, all that raw angst and energy. I bet you’re a tiger in the sack.”

Severus became keenly aware of Rodolphus’ large presence not twenty feet away, and he also became aware of the fact that Bella had no intention of loosening her grip on him. Severus placed his own hand at the small of her back, and as she drew him even closer, he did the same. Bella giggled again.

“Not here,” she whispered in his ear. “But soon.” She kissed his lips briefly, amazingly softly, and then disappeared into the dancing throng. The music pumped and humped and beat the walls of the private room. Severus saw Regulus dancing wildly with Narcissa, then with another girl he didn’t know, and then with Lucius. He downed the rest of his whiskey and snapped for the Elf to return to him with more. The Elf did not return, and so, Severus was left on his own to find his own refill, still watching Regulus take hold of Lucius around the neck for a moment before he spun away and danced with a girl again.

* * * * *

“The point is this,” Lucius said gravely. They all sat close around the table, many swooning from too much liquor and too much dancing. “We are at a critical moment in wizarding history, a time to strike at the very heart of our world. The Dark Lord is counting on his very best soldiers to take up the fight, to wage war for our rights. He needs the best of the best, an elite squad of top lieutenants who are willing to take a risk for the cause.”

“Here here!” Bella exclaimed, raising her glass.

“To the Dark Lord,” Regulus crowed, raising his own glass.

“To the Dark Lord,” the group echoed, Severus included. When everyone drank to the Dark Lord’s good health and victory, Severus, too, raised his glass to his lips, but then he stopped, not taking the whiskey into himself. He set his glass down, however, simultaneously with the rest of the group, hoping that no one noticed that he did not drink. Bella winked at him and smiled. He inclined his head towards her slightly, then returned his attention to Lucius.

“The aims of the Dark Lord are simple, and indeed, they are the aims of all of us: to rid our world of the influence of mudbloods and blood-traitors and half-bloods first, to subjugate squibs and ultimately to rid the earth of the stench of muggle filth.” Many people banged their glasses on the table in ascent. Lucius continued. “But we know that this is no easy task, in reality. The forces of the Ministry and their puppets are strong, and they will not go down without a good fight. That’s why we need the very best and brightest, witches and wizards unafraid to go the distance. This is the moment to strike. This is the moment to be daring. This is the moment to seize upon the change we all seek, because when we do, we will be victorious.”

Regulus leaned over to Severus. “He’s so full of shit,” he whispered. Severus smirked. “He’s addicted to the sound of his own voice.” Now, Severus sniggered. Regulus cuffed him on the shoulder. “I bet he gets his rocks off just by hearing himself speak!” Severus snorted and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

This one, his seventh, wasn’t so easy to get down. Though he had been drunk before, Severus hadn’t been quite this drunk. In fact, he hadn’t been anywhere near this drunk before. The room tipped a little to one side, and then to the other side, and when he tried to stand up, Severus found that his legs failed him. His arms felt cold and clammy and his voice slurred.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Can’t fucking stand up!”

Regulus laughed and poked Severus in the ribs. “You’re pissed!” He poked him again.

“Shhtp!” Severus slurred. “Mm gnna fu…I’m gonna puke!” 

His stomach lurched dangerously, and before he knew it, two sets of strong hands hoisted him up and rushed him to the loo, where he vomited spectacularly just to the left of the toilet. It splattered everywhere, including down his robes. A hand on the back of his head guided him closer to the toilet bowl just in time for Severus to vomit again…and again and again, until the world spun and blurred and then went black.

Severus had no idea how long he’d been asleep, and when he woke up, he found himself in a luxurious bed of silk sheets and a devastatingly warm duvet over his naked body. Who had removed his clothes? Who had apparated him here? What was this place?

He sat up with a grunt as the light of day skewered his bleary eyes. Sitting in a chair next to the bed was, to Severus’ surprise, Lucius Malfoy, smoking a cigarette and eating a ham sandwich. Noting that Severus was now awake, Lucius reached over to the night table and opened a cobalt blue glass phial, pouring the pink contents into a sherry glass.

“It’s a restorative,” he said, handing the glass to Severus. “It’ll take care of that hangover in a snap.”

“Thanks,” Severus croaked. The potion tasted sweet, a little sticky like butterbeer, but fragrant like gardenias or jasmine. Lucius was right. The moment the potion touched Severus’ tongue, he felt instantly better. He sighed and mussed his tousled hair, blinking to focus his eyes.

Lucius chuckled gently. “I use that stuff all the time. My father thinks I have a problem.”

“Where are we?”

“Regulus’ house. He and I brought you here a few hours ago so you could sleep it off before you went home. We didn’t think your family would be so keen to see their son with puke stains on his robes.”

Severus nodded.

Lucius put out his cigarette and lit another. “Mrs. Black hates it when I smoke. So, you have fun last night?”

“Yeah,” Severus replied, taking a sandwich from the plate Lucius offered him. It didn’t taste very good. Too dry.

“You really impressed everyone,” Lucius said. “Bella was quite taken with you.”

“Isn’t she engaged?”

Lucius laughed dismissively. “Roddy doesn’t care who she bonks. Their allegiance is more political than anything else. He’s got his extracurricular activities and she has hers.”

“So I’m an extracurricular activity?” Severus sniped, more than a little offended.

Lucius sat on the bed next to Severus, leaning close to him. Severus could smell the sandwich on his breath, mingled with the cigarette smoke. “You’re more than just that, Snape,” he said softly. “You have no idea how extraordinary you truly are. If you play your gobstones right, you will achieve great things in the organisation. Believe me, the Dark Lord rewards talent and skill, so long as he has your loyalty and trust.”

Before Severus could reply, Lucius swung his legs off the bed and stood up. “I’ll tell Regulus you’re alright now.”

“How is he?”

“Just about as knackered as you, I trust.” Lucius smirked. “You schoolboys need to learn how to drink!”

Alone in the elegant bedroom, Severus snuggled back down into that soft bed, stretched his long arms over his head and grunted contentedly. It was a truly magnificent room, with tapestries on the walls and rare, expensive Persian rugs on the hardwood floors. He suddenly felt like a thief. It was time to go, but no sooner had he made the decision to apparate home, then Regulus bounded through the door, looking fully restored. He grinned and leapt onto the bed, grabbing Severus by the shoulders.

“You’re a slag!” he laughed.

“What?”

Regulus threw himself against the stack of pillows against the headboard and nudged Severus’ bare foot with his own. “You know my cousin is engaged, right?”

“So is Lucius,” Severus retorted.

Regulus blushed. “Narcissa is a very understanding woman.”

“And Rodolphus is a very understanding man,” Severus shot back.

“Rodolphus is a thickhead,” Regulus spat. “She can do a lot better. Too bad you’re not ten years older, right, Sev?”

“Perhaps. So what’s up between you and Malfoy anyway?”

Regulus shrugged. “Oh, a bit of this and that. Nothing serious. He’s missing a couple of very important things,” he said, pinching his own chest.

Severus laughed, but decided not to press the issue further. But he did wonder.

“Everyone thought you were amazing,” Regulus said, still giddy from last night. “Narcissa couldn’t stop talking about you, and Lucius was actually intimidated by you.”

That made Severus howl. “Are you shitting me? I was a git last night! I puked all over the fucking loo!”

“Oh that. That’s nothing. But Lucius said he could feel your energy! He said you’re the most extraordinary wizard he’s encountered since the Dark Lord! Isn’t that great?”

Severus didn’t know how to respond.


	4. Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A chill tingled Severus’ spine as he made his way up the grey flagstone path, past the black oak tree near the rotted out, formerly white wooden fence. Leaves and gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way inside, suddenly filled with dread. The door opened with an ominous creak, and the floorboards groaned sharply under his weight as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Something had happened. He knew it. Severus could feel it in his fingertips that something terrible had happened whilst he was carousing with the Death Eater set and luxuriating at the Black mansion._
> 
> _“Mum?” he called out cautiously. Not too loud. No response._
> 
> _Severus stood in the center of the tiny living room, looking at the threadbare sofa and the too-old television, its single black eye staring back at him. He felt his stomach melt._
> 
> _“Mum?” he called again. “Dad?”_

Severus didn’t go home straight away. Instead, he and Regulus sat by the window looking out over Grimmauld Place, watching the summer rain fall like bullets against the black, slick streets. The Elf lit the fireplace in the room and brought them lunch and wine, and later dinner and more wine. Severus and Regulus sat and ate and drank and talked about everything that happened at the party, from the encounter with Bella to the dance with Lucius. Regulus wasn’t too forthcoming about that, and quickly changed the subject, preferring to talk about Lucius’ speech.

“What did you think of it?” Regulus asked. “Was it a good speech?”

Severus hesitated. Was it? It was certainly eloquent, focused, passionate, but was it good? He saw a glint in Regulus’ eye. “What did you think?” Severus asked.

“I thought it was brilliant,” Regulus said, his dark eyes now quixotic. “I’ll be honest with you, Sev, I mean, sometimes I have some questions about all that stuff, but that’s what’s so great about Lucius. He can just put things into words like that, and then all my questions are answered.”

“Do your parents know you have questions?”

Regulus snorted. “Are you kidding? They’d drum me out like they just did to my brother!”

“Well what are your questions?” Severus asked, troubled by this admission.

“It’s just me,” Regulus confessed. “I think I’m a spoilt brat.”

Severus sniggered at that. “And that’s a new revelation?”

Regulus cuffed him on the arm. “It’s just that I’ve always been sort of pampered and protected, you know? I never have to do anything for myself, so…I don’t know, I mean, I really want to join the organisation, but…” He stopped, blushing hotly.

“But what?”

“I think maybe I’m weak. Maybe I don’t have it in me.”

Severus leaned forward, setting down his wine glass. “You’re not weak, Regulus. I know you too well to believe otherwise.”

Regulus chuckled lightly. “That means a lot, hearing that from you, mate.”

But a new thought entered his mind, and Severus raised a curious eyebrow. “You’re not letting Lucius use you, are you?”

“No!” Regulus shot back, more than a little offended. “It’s not like that, OK? I’m not his bitch, whatever you might think!”

“I never suggested you were, Regulus,” Severus replied.

“Look, mate, I mean, this is the 70’s! New age, new experiences, new reality, right?”

Severus shrugged. “I suppose. He does know your age, doesn’t he?”

Regulus grinned, nudging his foot against Severus’ knee playfully. “You really can be an old fuddy-duddy, Sev!” he laughed. “I think I need to take you to a lot more parties!”

“Just promise me you won’t make me do the Hustle with Lucius Malfoy.”

* * * * * 

Late into the night, too tired to move, Severus and Regulus drifted off to sleep, leaving their empty wine glasses and empty wine bottles scattered around the floor, preferring to retire drunkenly to the bed where they both passed out immediately. Severus slept languidly, sinfully, with Regulus still at his side. Initially, he felt more than a bit awkward when Regulus decided to get under the duvet with him, especially after all that talk about Lucius. But when Regulus merely leaned his head boyishly against Severus’ shoulder and fell innocently asleep, Severus relaxed, settling into his friend and into the entire, elegant atmosphere. He could feel Regulus’ warm breath on his neck, and when he turned over and snuggled closer, he allowed Regulus to place his hand on his hip. The wisp of Regulus’ black hair grazed Severus chest and chin, tickling him softly. Severus inclined his own head towards his friend’s, sighed deeply and slumbered, the outward crest of their hands barely touching.

It was the bang and crash of muggle dustmen and their noisy lorries that woke them up the next morning, thought they didn’t get out of bed right away. A man shouted, and then a muggle car horn honked loudly. It was ten o’clock. It was time to go home. 

Severus had left his parents just at the start of yet another row, another brewing storm of violent screaming and yelling. This time it was about something the neighbours said about Severus, looking stranger than usual, or so they opined. Since his most recent return from school, Severus had taken to wearing only wizard robes rather than muggle attire, including in public. Neither of his parents liked this, but there was little they could do to stop him. Thus, when Severus walked to the local news agents for a morning paper and a Mars bar, Mrs. Something from next door gossiped to Mrs. Cat Lady across the street, and in the space of about an hour, word reached Tobias Snape that his son was the subject of rumour and scandal.

He had confronted Severus about it, and when Eileen tried to intervene, he treated her to a barrage of blame and obscenities and Severus with a sharp blow to the face. Eileen screeched at Tobias, who roared back at her, back and forth and back and forth, and so, as always, Severus took this as a sign to apparate far away.

The very last thing he expected to encounter as he arrived back on his block that morning was a dark, still house. A chill tingled Severus’ spine as he made his way up the grey flagstone path, past the black oak tree near the rotted out, formerly white wooden fence. Leaves and gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way inside, suddenly filled with dread. The door opened with an ominous creak, and the floorboards groaned sharply under his weight as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

Something had happened. He knew it. Severus could feel it in his fingertips that something terrible had happened whilst he was carousing with the Death Eater set and luxuriating at the Black mansion.

“Mum?” he called out cautiously. Not too loud.

No response.

Severus stood in the center of the tiny living room, looking at the threadbare sofa and the too-old television, its single black eye staring back at him. He felt his stomach melt.

“Mum?” he called again. “Dad?”

Again, no response. Wait. What was that noise? It sounded like…a sob. Maybe a sob. Maybe his father’s radio. Severus pulled out his wand and inched towards the grey kitchen. It was a small kitchen, worn out from use and neglect. He considered taking one of the kitchen knives, just in case. Best to be too careful. Severus walked through the kitchen and into the narrow, dark corridor, heading towards the bedrooms. The sobbing grew louder, louder still. Severus could feel beads of sweat trickling down his back. He adjusted his grip on his wand, which had slipped in his sweaty hand. His knees shook as he walked towards the sobbing, hoping to find that it was all a joke, or a television show.

But it wasn’t a joke.

The sight made Severus nearly crumble with heartbreak and grief. His mother sat on his bed, knees pulled up to her chest, her head buried in her arms, sobbing pitifully, so much so that her entire body shook—the bed shook under her. On the floor, splayed out bloodlessly, was Tobias, dead. Severus sank to the floor, letting his wand clatter to the floor unnoticed, staring at disbelief at the horrific scene before his stunned eyes.

“What…happened?” he finally uttered.

Eileen dried her eyes and face with a conjured handkerchief, then stuffed it up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Severus noticed how drawn she looked suddenly, how her long, black hair hung lank and listless around her thin, pale face. He saw lines around her mouth and forehead, products of age and stress and years of worrying about everything. Eileen grew calm, reassuring just then. She crouched over to where Severus sat on the floor, and put her arms around him, holding him close for a while.

“I killed your father,” she said quietly.

He froze, as if hit in the face by ice water. What did she just say? She…killed him. She killed him. She killed her husband. She killed his…father. This must be a mistake. He knew she would never do that, ever…unless… Severus’ mind raced, pausing as he arrived at the inevitable conclusion. Its burning reality was too much for him, and Severus dissolved into bitter tears.

“How?” he asked, numb and raging and terrified. “Mum? How?”

She sniffled and stroked Severus’ face for a moment. “I finally decided to leave him. I should have left him years ago and I let him get away with far too much, but…” Eileen sighed. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry I let him treat you so terribly. You never deserved any of it, Severus.”

“You didn’t have to kill him!” But before he could go on with his tirade, Severus saw it. Just along his mother’s jawline was a dark purple bruise. He understood.

“Severus, I had no idea it would come to this. Honestly, I didn’t. You believe me, don’t you?”

He nodded. He didn’t want to believe her, but he did.

“He had never hit me before, and when he did, it was like a light went on in my head, and I suddenly understood what he had put you through and what a terrible mother I’ve been, and Severus! I grabbed my wand before he could hit me again and I…”

“Avada Kedavra.”

New tears poured down Eileen’s face, but Severus did nothing to comfort her. He was too shocked, too grieved, too incredulous that his own mother would even consider cold-blooded murder. But he also knew what had to be done.

Severus stood up, found his wand, which he pointed at his father’s body. “Locomotor mortis,” he said softly. His father’s body floated up into the air, and, guided by Severus’ wand, floated out of the room, down the corridor and into his parents’ bedroom. Still holding his father’s body aloft, Severus quickly pulled down the duvet, then lowered his father’s body into the bed. Then, he covered him up.

“Call the three nines,” he told Eileen.

“No!” Eileen replied harshly. “There’ll be an inquiry! We have to do this another way!”

“Mum, we have to pretend it was natural causes! There will be no inquiry!”

“There will!”

“There won’t! Avada Kedavra leaves no signs, and the muggles will have no reason to look for anything. Trust me, Mum!” Severus pointed his wand at the door. “Accio phone!” At once, the cordless phone rushed through the air and into his waiting hand. He thrust it into Eileen’s hands. “Call the three nines! Now!”

Within ten minutes, an ambulance and three fire trucks, plus a police car converged on the Snape home, sirens wailing, lights flashing. The emergency servicemen rushed in, evaluated the scene, did what they could to revive the dead man, and when it was clear that Tobias was dead, they all waited for the medical examiner to arrive and officially declare him dead. That done, Tobias was taken out on a gurney, covered by a blue plastic sheet while Severus and Eileen sat on the sofa, answering questions from the police. Eileen remained silent, too traumatised to speak and let Severus take the brunt of the interrogation.

“So where were you when this happened, son?” the policeman asked. He had a soft, kind face and sparse graying hair.

“I was out with friends. I’ve been gone for a couple of days.”

“And what did you find when you got home?”

“My mother was crying. Dad was lying in bed, not moving, and she was trying to revive him. She was calling his name, but he didn’t answer.” To his surprise, Severus found it quite easy to lie so effortlessly and painlessly. He wasn’t sure if this was out of a desire to protect his mother or if it was the product of some deeper, darker quality he possessed.

“How long did you wait to call emergency services?” the policeman asked.

“We called right away,” Severus replied, his voice heavy with sorrow and guilt. “He was already blue and no matter what we did, we couldn’t revive him.”

The policeman nodded, jotting down a few notes in his book, which he then pocketed. “Mrs. Snape, I won’t lie to you. There will likely be an autopsy of your husband since he seemed to have died mysteriously. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

The policeman glanced at the bruise on her jaw, then at the bruise under Severus’ eye. He looked around at the mess in the corner where Severus had stumbled back two days ago, dodging another of his father’s blows, and he looked at the upturned nesting tables by the television, then returned his attention to Eileen.

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he said.

Eileen walked the policeman to the door and after he gave her new assurances and more condolences, he left. But instead of coming back inside the house, Eileen remained at the door, apparently greeting a visitor. Likely Mrs. Something or Mrs. Cat Lady. Surely not Lily Evans. Distraught and tear stained, she rushed to him, threw herself into his arms and wept. Severus buried his face in the red silk of her hair, pulling her into himself, searching for some energy from her that would give him life once again.

“Oh Severus, I’m so sorry!” she gulped. “I saw the ambulances and the police rushing by and then your neighbour told me about your father! I’m so sorry!”

He stepped back to arm’s length, holding her by the hands now, his head bowed as a new feeling of humiliation drowned his heart.

“What happened?” she asked.

What could he say? That his mother killed his father in self-defence? That it was all a big misunderstanding? That unlike herself or Potter or anyone else they knew, that he was the product of a violent, emotionally abandoning home? No. It was too much. All he could do was just shake his head and avoid her penetrating green eyes. Lily cupped his face with her sweet hands. She leaned forward and kissed his lips briefly.

“Look, Severus,” she said sympathetically, “I want you to know that I’m here for you, whatever you need. If you want to talk about it or even if you just want to sit and grieve, I’ll do whatever I can, alright?”

It was as if she poured hot coals over his head, scorching him mercilessly. Unable to hold back his reserve, Severus dissolved into bitter weeping, choking and gasping as his emotions ran wild. Again, Lily pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him, sisterly, of course.

“Please don’t tell anyone, Lily!” he begged. “I couldn’t take it! Please, promise me!”

“But people will want to lend their support! They’ll want to condole with you, won’t they?”

Severus tore himself out of her grasp. “I don’t want their bloody condolences!” he seethed. “Not from any of them! They can keep their phony sentiments to themselves!”

“No one will laugh, Severus.” She looked into his eyes as she spoke.

“They won’t have to!” he spat. 

“They’ll understand, Severus. They’ll feel just horrible!”

“I don’t want their pity!”

Lily opened her mouth to reply, but instead, she pressed her lips together until it seemed that she merely had a straight line for mouth. “I’m sorry, Severus. I’ll see you soon. You take care, alright?”

He could only nod, and as Lily made her way back down the path, towards the street, Severus shut his eyes and turned away.

* * * * *

The funeral of Tobias Snape took place three days later, without much ceremony. Besides Severus and his mother, the only other guests at the funeral were a handful of neighbours, Regulus Black, Lily Evans and Albus Dumbledore. Regulus looked traumatised, pale, as if the idea of death were some foreign and unpleasant entity, an unwelcome intruder on the daily spice of life. Next to him, Professor Dumbledore kept his eyes not on Severus but on Eileen, looking at her as if he were x-raying her. The vicar said a few, meaningless words about Tobias Snape and then, just like that, the service was over. The plain, pine coffin was lowered into the cold ground and covered up—that was it.

The Snapes did not have a reception at the house, despite the protests of Mrs. Cat Lady. Regulus gave Severus a big hug before disapparating. Lily spoke briefly with Eileen, then kissed Severus on the cheek and went home. But Dumbledore lingered a while, talking diplomatically yet enigmatically with Eileen.

 _He knows,_ Severus thought. _He knows that she killed him._ But what could be done? What would Dumbledore do with this sort of information? And how did he know? That troubled Severus more than anything. As much as he endeavoured to struggle away from that gaze that held his mind, Severus failed over and again.

Something would have to be done about Albus Dumbledore. Severus knew that well enough. He suddenly grieved, no longer for his brutal, abusive father or for his weak, desperate mother, but for his eager, overly passionate friend. Regulus had drive and a clear ideology, but what he said about himself, about weakness, came back to Severus as he pondered on the person of Albus Dumbledore and the sort of wizard he was.


	5. The Nose and Mrs. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his mother's insistence that he stay away from the Black family, Severus cannot resist their pull, especially after he meets Regulus' formidable mother, Walburga. How can anybody understand his actions, his desperate needs? No. Severus resolves to move forward, to find camaraderie with people who value him for who he is, rather than for how he looks.

Severus knew that muggles celebrated something called Bastille Day on July 14. But he was a wizard, so those insipid muggle celebrations had nothing to do with him, especially now that his muggle father was dead and gone. This July 14, in fact, Severus would travel down to Wiltshire, to the hallowed halls of Malfoy Manor, for the grand, elegant party promised by Regulus and Evan and Cassius. 

In spite of his father’s untimely and incredibly convenient murder, Severus was left with much of the same problems, though at least he didn’t have to endure the indignity of another physical altercation with Tobias. All that was thankfully in the past. But he was still left with no money to speak of, at least by way of personal finances. Tobias, as it turned out, had a fairly hefty life insurance policy, though he also left behind a considerable amount of debts, including one to a turf accountant. After all was paid out, Eileen was left with just enough money to purchase a house, though this meant a drastic move, since there was no possible way she could afford one nearby. With friends in a faraway town and low property values where they lived, Eileen decided to pull up stakes and resettle there with her son.

The little house on Spinner’s End, way up in the chilly North, was warm and cozy and welcoming. Eileen planned to lay out a colourful garden in the front, complete with flower boxes and topiaries and a wisteria vine around the front door. She wanted the house to be the one bright spot on the otherwise dank and rather rundown street, and the moment they moved in, Eileen went straight to work on the project. Naturally, she had to work at night considering that they were the only wizard family in the area, as far as they knew. Each night, Eileen would conjure green grass for the back garden, a nice lemon tree, some rose bushes along the back garden wall and into the front, and masses of wildflowers in the front garden.

Eileen became immediately friendly with the neighbour lady, a Mrs. Harpe, whose husband, Austin, worked at the factory just five blocks away. That way, Mrs. Harpe pointed out cheerily, he could be home for lunch every day. Eileen liked them very much. 

Severus only heard stories about the Harpes and the garden and the flowers and how good the lemon tree smelled. In fact, he hadn’t yet seen the new house because the moment that Eileen decided to move shortly after the funeral, she sent Severus to stay with friends. Her choice was for him to stay with the Evans family, but Severus hotly protested.

“There is no way, Mum! I will NOT stay in that house!”

“They’re a lovely family, and Mrs. Evans is quite happy to have you. They’ve even got a guest room ready for you.”

“Mum! NO! Why can’t I just help you move to the new house?”

She took his hand. “Severus, I killed your father. I have to get my head together about all this. There’s every chance that the Wizengamot will get wise to what I’ve done.”

Severus thought about the knowing gaze in Dumbledore’s eyes at the funeral. His nostrils flared. “I know that, Mum. That’s why…”

But she cut across him. “I need time to sort through this on my own, especially if there is an inquiry. You can understand that, can’t you? I want you to be around fun people, people that care about you. I want you to be away from all this depression and sorrow for once.”

He saw her point. He didn’t want to, but he did. “Can’t I stay with one of my friends?”

“I thought you and Lily were friends.”

Severus scowled, remembering that awful scene at school, that half smirk on her face as he hung upside down. He could hear his own voice calling her mudblood. He could see the look of hatred in her eyes and he could see the disdain on Potter’s smug, snarling face.

“We were never friends,” Severus replied stiffly. “What’s more, I absolutely refuse to spend one second around the sort that she associates with. I’d rather sleep on the street!”

Eileen sighed. “Severus, it’s just for a couple of weeks. I am not going to let you sleep on the street.”

“Mum, I’ll stay with Regulus, alright?”

“You are NOT staying with Regulus Black!” she snapped. “I won’t have my son getting mixed up with that crazy family!”

“He’s not a Death Eater!”

“He’s a bad influence, Severus! How many times do I have to tell you that? We have had this conversation a thousand times!”

But he did stay with the Blacks, though he told his mother he would take a room at the Leaky Cauldron for two weeks whilst she set up house. And in truth, he did take a room there…for a night. And then he packed up his meager possessions, his tatty robes and holey shoes and went straight to Regulus, who was glad to have him. After the funeral, Regulus had felt so terrible about the whole situation that he practically commanded Severus to come and stay with him a couple of days later.

“Mother missed you,” Regulus said as the Elf let Severus in the front door. “Kreacher, take Mr. Snape’s bag up to his room.” The tiny, ugly Elf bowed graciously and obeyed. Regulus touched Severus on the elbow. “Come on. She’s waiting for us in the sitting room. But first, I gotta show you something! You didn’t see this the last time you were here. You’re going to laugh!”

Regulus led Severus to a small, rather formal looking room with a stuffy-looking sitting arrangement and not much else. But on the wall, all the way across its length, was a massive tapestry of the Black Family Tree. Severus filled his black eyes with every name on it—Blacks and Prewetts and Goyles and Longbottoms and even Potter. He also noticed a burn mark here and there, which made him wonder. Regulus pulled him along and pointed to a large, fresh scorched area that should have marked Sirius’ name.

Regulus grinned. “She burned it off, didn’t she? After he ran off, she took her wand, marched straight in here and burned off his name, just like that!” Regulus doubled over with laughter.

Severus only smirked. “Serves the bastard right,” he muttered quietly.

Regulus’ mother was a powerful witch with an overwhelming personality. She, like her husband and most of their family, was passionately devoted to the Dark Lord and to his cause—no other opinion was allowed that house and no other opinion was remotely tolerated. Severus briefly pictured Sirius viciously debating his mother and losing spectacularly, but then he turned his thoughts to other things.

Such as Mrs. Black’s posture. Like a queen on a golden throne, she sat regally, holding court as it were, commanding every level of conversation that took place within earshot of her. By comparison, Regulus was like a lapdog or a jester, happy to soak up praise and get a few well-regulated laughs from his imposing mother. She wore robes of deep purple and black, with a white gold pin at her throat, encrusted with diamonds and emeralds—the pin was the shape of a skull, with a serpent inching out of its mouth, becoming entwined around its head. Every single one of her fingers bore an elegant, ostentatious ring, either of diamonds or emeralds or sapphires. They clinked together a little. Severus knew that his own mother couldn’t have afforded even a particle of one of those jewels.

“You are attending Abraxas Malfoy’s engagement with us, are you not, Severus?” she asked. Her voice was throaty and deep, which took Severus by surprise.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied silkily, taking some of her regal energy into himself. He wanted to seem respectable, if only for a short while. “I have looked forward to it for some time now.”

“My son tells me you impressed young Lucius Malfoy a fortnight ago. My dear niece says the same thing.”

“It was most educational, Mrs. Black. I found your niece to be equally formidable.”

Mrs. Black beamed, as if she were glancing at a little puppy playing on the rug. “Bella and her new husband were finally initiated, you know. Just three days ago.”

“She’s so lucky,” Regulus gushed.

Mrs. Black placed an approving hand on her son’s shoulder. “Your time will come soon, my dear. And you, Mr. Snape, I think your time will also come very soon. What do you say to that?”

Severus measured his response as carefully as he dared. “I…I’m flattered, Mrs. Black.”

“The Dark Lord has been told all about you, by Bellatrix and by Lucius as well. You do know that Lucius has the Dark Lord’s ear, do you not?”

“Is he a…is he in the organisation?”

“Nearly,” she replied. “There’s been some trouble with him in recent weeks, a bit too much carousing for his own good. Too many boys, I fear.”

Severus glanced surreptitiously at Regulus, but then at his shoelaces. Regulus, however, did not turn his gaze from his mother. Instead, he stroked his left arm and changed the subject.

“Mother, it’s alright for Sev to say here a while, isn’t it? His mother decided to move and set up house and she wanted to do it on her own.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at Regulus for a quick moment, mortified at this intrusion into his privacy. This was the very last thing he wanted to discuss with anyone, especially in front of a witch like Mrs. Black. Just in that precious moment where he appeared nearly unbreakable, Regulus had to barge in like the selfish little boy he was.

Fortunately for Severus, Mrs. Black came swooping to the rescue, sensing her guest’s discomfort. “Regulus, I’m sure that your friend here would rather not discuss his biography just now.”

Regulus blushed hotly, finally realising his transgression. “Sorry, Sev,” he said.

“Your mother is a wise woman,” Severus replied, inclining his head towards Mrs. Black as a sign of respect.

She grinned wickedly. “Your friend has something you do not, my dear,” she said to Regulus. “Severus seems to know the art of gravitas. You could learn from him, Regulus. The Dark Lord will approve of this very much. He honours a person who can conduct himself with grace and tact, something you lack, Regulus.”

Regulus rolled his eyes and laughed. “Say, Sev, maybe you’ll get initiated before me!”

Severus merely shrugged, sitting a little taller than before, still glowing from the compliment from Mrs. Black. If only his own mother could recognise these important qualities he possessed, rather than worrying about who he hung around with, then maybe she would start to see just how capable and strong he really was. Maybe then she’d stop always trying to protect him. Maybe she’d finally stop holding him at arm’s length for once, let him in so that he could be the son she wanted.

If only he didn’t look so much like his father. True, his hair was dark like Eileen’s, but Severus had his father’s height and more significantly, his father’s nose. For years, Severus tried to make peace with this feature, which seemed to crowd out the rest of his face. It wasn’t a bad face—not gorgeous, not hideous, but that nose changed it all, morphed it into something almost comical. At first, Severus would walk the corridors with his head down or turned away so that his nose was less noticeable, until one fateful day during his second year at Hogwarts when he realised that there was nothing he could do to minimise its great, imposing size. It stuck out like a lamp, hooked downward sharply like a boomerang.

At least he didn’t have a wart on it.

Some days, Severus rebuked himself for being so shallow about his appearance. Who cared what he looked like? He tried to convince himself that he looked exotic rather than hideous. Had he possessed darker skin or almond eyes or some other feature that would give his nose a rational context, then that argument might have worked. But as it was, with his pale skin and sharp jawline and fierce black eyes, the nose became even more prominent, a cruel intruder.

Tobias used to call him a vulture. He’d flap his arms like a loon and bray at his son, “you look like you’re gonna eat a cadaver!” When Severus first entered Hogwarts, the ridicule only continued, especially from Potter and Sirius Black.

“Watch your step over that nose, Snape!”

“Your nose was on time for class, Snape, but you were ten minutes late!”

“If Snape ever gets a cold, they’ll have to shut down the school!”

What did they know, with their patrician good looks and normal-sized noses? OK, so Potter had glasses, but no one called him Four-Eyes. They didn’t get it, and what’s more, they never would. They had money, social connections, family respectability. They were purebloods, too, something Severus could never say about himself no matter how much he let people believe otherwise. He hoped the Dark Lord would never find out.

Severus also hoped that the Dark Lord would see beyond the nose and value Severus for his talents and his gifts. Wasn’t it Regulus who said all the Dark Lord cared about was trust and loyalty? Hadn’t Luicus repeated the sentiment? Heartened by Mrs. Black’s approval, Severus decided to make the party at Malfoy Manor his shining moment, where for the first time he would be respected as a peer, as a man.

* * * * *

The day before the party at Malfoy Manor, Mrs. Black ordered the Elf to launder and mend all of Regulus’ and Severus’ clothing. This lead immediately to an unplanned shopping expedition to Twillfit and Tattings, with Mrs. Black leading the way and Severus and Regulus following closely behind. She might have been tolerant of Severus’ large nose, but one thing she would not brook was his third-hand, fading robes.

“Is there nothing that’s new?” she asked with disgust.

“My father used his money for other things,” Severus replied, indignant. “Whores and betting shops are very expensive.”

That was all she needed to hear. Thankfully for Severus, Twillfit and Tattings was not generally a place where he would run into his rivals, and so, though the thought of his friend’s mother buying him new clothes was humiliating, at least no one he hated would be an eyewitness to this new shame.

Mrs. Black, however, didn’t think of it as shameful in the least. In fact, she rather enjoyed the adventure, using all her powers of discretion and tact to keep any sense of embarrassment for Severus to a minimum. He was grateful to her for that gesture. He was also grateful for the splendid new robes she lavished on him—all black, all lined in rich, saturated reds and greens and purples. Severus felt a little like a Prince, something that amused him, considering his mother’s maiden name.

After dinner that night, Mrs. Black called Severus into her private office, alone. The gentle candlelight made the room seem old but elegant, mysterious and even a little scary. Severus spotted rows and rows of thick books on every shelf in the office. He also noticed not a single flower or plant or any other sort of natural life, other than Mrs. Black herself. Sitting in her red leather wing chair behind a surprisingly delicate wooden desk, she motioned for him to come and sit in the plush black chair opposite her. As Severus sat, noting that even in her hunter green evening robes, she still wore the white gold skull pin, Mrs. Black poured both of them glasses of whiskey.

Before he could say any word of thanks for the clothes or the hospitality or the whiskey, Mrs. Black spoke, slowly and sternly.

“You feel grateful, don’t you?” she asked him.

“You have been very good to me, Mrs. Black.” Severus sipped the whiskey carefully.

She chuckled. “But I have not been charitable.”

“You have been generous beyond belief, in fact.”

“Not in the least. I don’t have a generous bone in my body, actually, though it is reasonable to mistake my recent actions as generosity.”

Severus straightened his spine, now feeling tense and a little put out. “What do you want from me?”

She smiled. “You see, Severus? You are remarkable! You can see through the proverbial bullshit and get right down to business. I like that.”

“Then what is your business?” he asked, his voice now grim and humourless.

“Protection for my son, for Regulus.”

“Protection from what?”

She downed her whiskey in a single gulp. “From himself, Mr. Snape. Regulus is ambitious, but he is still a silly little boy. He is set to be initiated by the Dark Lord on his sixteenth birthday, but that is over a year from now. In the meantime, I want to make sure of two things. First, that he doesn’t go the way of his older brother.”

“Sirius?”

She glared at him momentarily. “We do not speak his name in this house. But yes, him. I also want to be sure that he doesn’t go too far before he is ready.”

“What do you mean?”

“Keep my son away from Lucius Malfoy this summer.”

“You disapprove?”

“Lucius is engaged to my niece. He will soon become family. He and my son have not done what many have speculated about.”

“You mean…”

“Precisely. Lucius is a master of seduction, especially when it involves a pretty-boy like Regulus, but Lucius also knows his limits. Regulus does not, and Regulus can be, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, very persistent.”

Severus nodded.

Mrs. Black stood up and put out her hand. “Then you will agree to this arrangement?”

He shook her hand, looking straight into her cold, hard eyes. “To the best of my ability, yes.”


	6. A Select Few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was a lie, of course, though Severus tried to salve his conscience by equivocating as much as he could stand to. He hated liars, and he hated lying to his mother. But at least he was with the Blacks, rather than stewing away at the Evans place, feeling like a disgraced House Elf. He was sure that Lily would have killed him if he even mentioned the idea of attending a party at Malfoy Manor. Like all her friends, Lily hated that entire family and all they stood for. Severus could see her point, but then again, she had never visited there. How could she make such a radical judgement about a family when she had no clue how they lived?_

Severus thought it was brilliant—using an entire horse-drawn carriage as a portkey. It was simple. Mrs. Black, Regulus and Severus climbed inside of the elegant, gilded coach, shut the japanned door tight, and one, two, three…pop! Simple. Severus could have apparated easily on his own, but no one knew that. What’s more, Regulus could not apparate, and so, playing the grateful, humble guest, Severus went along.

The carriage drifted downward out of the grey evening sky, its odd appearance filling the empty horizon. They rode forward at a snail’s pace, or so it felt to an overly curious and eager Severus. Regulus could barely contain himself, and he kept squashing Severus against the edge the seat every time he leaned over to look out the window.

An irritated Severus poked him in the ribs. “Careful, Regulus, or you’ll wet yourself.”

“Bella’s going to show it to us tonight!” Regulus effused, ignoring his friend’s comment.

Mrs. Black fingered the pin at her throat and smiled serenely. “It’s a very proud moment for all of us. If only every one of the family would join the organisation. I for one am most eager to see it again. By now it will have taken its full effect.”

Severus wondered what she meant, but chose not to ask. Part of him didn’t want to know, but he buried that thought in a safe corner of his heart.

“You boys must be hungry,” Mrs. Black went on. “Abraxas always lays a good table. You will not be disappointed.”

Severus couldn’t help but be amazed by her reserve. After all, this was no ordinary ball they were attending. This was a gathering of some of the darkest wizards of the age, yet here he was, reclining in a gilded fantasy box drawn by white stallions, listening to talk of hors d’oeuvres and dancing and what Narcissa would be wearing tonight. He sank into its usualness for the moment, let her dialogue tuck him in like a good mother.

Just ahead stood the glittering gates of Malfoy Manor, standing open to receive them. The carriage rolled through, gliding serenely towards its goal. Severus and Regulus both goggled at the sheer grandeur of the estate, with lush forests to one side, rolling green hills ahead and beyond, banks of flowers and topiaries in the shapes of manticores and dragons and even one in the shape of what Severus was sure was a basilisk. Closer to the main house, they passed black and white marble statues of the Malfoy ancestors, none of whom Severus knew. They stared him down like tigers, seemingly ready to lunge at any moment.

The house itself was more like a palace than simply a large home or a mansion. Severus hardly knew where to look first because it was so ostentatiously opulent, from the curved, carved columns in the front of the house to the long spray of windows four stories high, from one end of the building to the distant end of the other. The walkway from the drive to the grand entrance took them up twenty stairs which fanned outward regally, able to accommodate a hundred people at once.

Severus’ temper flared wild and violent within the infinite space of three seconds, nearly blinding him as he set his feet on the path. While his mother struggled hard to set up house in a dumpy neighbourhood and use all her best efforts to make the crummy place look halfway decent, here he was, sliding in like a prince to the jewel of the wizarding world. He would sip champagne cocktails whilst Eileen drank discount pumpkin juice made from concentrate and eat crackers and tunafish while he dined on foie gras and caviar.

How much they didn’t know about him. How little they really understood him. And how desperately Severus wanted to strangle Lucius Malfoy and steal this estate for himself. He shivered.

In the entrance hall, a swarm of house elves took cloaks and hats and ushered them towards the receiving line. Severus noticed how the sound of their shoes on the black and white marble floor echoed in circles, looping upward towards the tall trees which stood in pots in corners, framing the door. He couldn’t suppress an audible gasp as they made their way down one corridor, and finally into the grand ballroom. On every wall hung priceless paintings and tapestries, framed in gold and silver, illumined like flame from the candlelight all around them.

There was power here. Real power. Severus salivated, wanting to meet Mr. Malfoy, and especially wanting to see this thing that Bellatrix had, something that no one bothered to explain to him. Perhaps they figured he knew what they meant. It was possible. And if so, was that a compliment? He supposed so. He decided not to argue or ask stupid questions.

Abraxas Malfoy was unmistakable. He looked almost exactly like his son, or rather, Lucius looked almost exactly like his father. Severus had heard stories about Abraxas Malfoy—everyone knew of his dark, very dangerous reputation. He was a pirate of sorts, a man who had expanded his own father’s considerable fortune by looting and stealing and pillaging, victimising both wizards and muggles alike. Early in his career, Abraxas had been arrested by muggle police, but after he disapparated from the police car, no one ever put him into custody again. There was a toughness about him, a stormy brawn that could bend steel with a single thought. Severus wanted to know him.

As it happened, Abraxas already seemed to know Severus, even before his name was announced by the Elf. He grinned and put out a friendly hand to Severus. His grip was tight, challenging, a true test of manhood. Before Severus had time to return the challenge, Abraxas let go, laughing gruffly and cuffing him on the shoulder.

“I’ve been eager to meet you, Snape,” he said. Severus wondered whether Abraxas ate gravel for breakfast every day.

“And I you,” Severus replied as silkily as he could manage, more than a bit distracted by his shaking knees.

“You know, Snape, we have a considerable library here, and I know that you would be very interested in many of our volumes. My people inform me that you are quite the potions master. I think you will be very useful to us, yes?”

“I hope one day to see those volumes,” Severus replied, careful not to assent just yet. Not tonight anyway. Tonight was for drunkenness and politics, not intellectualism.

Abraxas put a fatherly arm around Severus’ shoulders. “You can see them later tonight. There’s a meeting in a couple of hours, and I want you to be there.”

“Is this to do with Bellatrix?” Severus blurted out before he could check himself.

Abraxas chuckled. “It’s to do with a lot of things, but yes, boy, she’ll be there. So will her husband.”

Severus got the point. Remembering his promise to Mrs. Black, he sought out Regulus, to make sure he wasn’t crossing any lines his mother had forbidden him. As it happened, Regulus was off in a dark corner with his cousin, Bellatrix, looking intently at…her arm. A glowing Bellatrix, not Regulus, spotted Severus and waved him over. She smiled like any newlywed, and when Severus approached, she kissed him on the cheek.

“Congratulations, Bella,” Severus said. He attempted to kiss her on the cheek, too, but just then, she turned her head so that he inadvertently kissed her on the lips. Bellatrix laughed. Severus blushed.

“I told you I wasn’t finished with you,” she giggled.

“Look at it,” Regulus said, pointing to her arm. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Severus looked, and to his astonishment, he saw that she bore a fresh tattoo, and in the very same shape as Mrs. Black’s pin.

“It’s the Dark Mark,” Regulus said, as if he were staring at a gold ingot.

Severus couldn’t take his eyes from it. He thought it had a voice, like a Siren whispering and singing seductions to his aching heart. The eyes of the skull stared like darts into Severus’ own, and he could almost hear the quiet whoosh of the serpent. 

“Wow,” Severus uttered, unable to mask his wonder. He could feel its drive, its immense focus, its clear purpose in the world.

Regulus laughed.

“Some couples exchange wedding rings,” Bellatrix explained, “but Roddy and I wanted to do things differently, especially as the Dark Lord himself officiated at our wedding.”

“You are SO lucky!” Regulus exclaimed. “Was Lucius there?”

“With Narcissa, of course. And with his father and with your father, too.”

But then, Regulus pouted. “Why didn’t I get to go?”

“Adults only, kiddo,” she laughed, patting him on the head as if he were an overgrown toddler with cookie stains on his shirt.

“But how did you arrange it?” Severus asked, overcome by curiosity, stunned by the thought of the Dark Lord acting as the vicar as it were.

“I have been in his service for a while,” she explained. “He thought my time had come and that I was ready to go to the next level, and so, we turned it into a wedding of sorts.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Of sorts?”

Bellatrix ran a finger along Severus’ jawline and smiled. “I didn’t just marry Roddy,” she said softly, almost in a reverie. “I cleaved my soul to the Dark Lord as well. This was a spiritual union, Severus. As much as I belong to my husband, I also belong to my lord and master. Perhaps even more so.”

Her lord and master?

“So are you having a honeymoon?” Regulus asked, conveniently breaking up the solemn moment.

Bellatrix shrugged. “We’ve lived together for years, so we’re in no rush to go off on a honeymoon. Maybe after your initiation.”

“Do you suppose he’d move it up a few months?” Regulus asked.

“Of course not! The Dark Lord knows when it’s time, so until then, you’ll just have to be patient.” She giggled again. “Like Severus here! He’s a master! Listen to me, Regulus, you’re far better off sticking with Snape here and learning a thing or two rather than romping in the thickets with Lucius!”

Regulus laughed and rolled his eyes. “One thing’s for sure, Bella,” he said. “You might be a blushing bride, but you sure haven’t lost your inner bitch!”

* * * * *

As promised, a meeting was called in the grand library, where fifteen selected guests gathered to discuss the agenda, planned out by Abraxas Malfoy and Mrs. Black. Among the attendees sat Bellatrix and a very imposing Rodolphus, Lucius and Narcissa, Severus, Regulus, Mr. Avery, Mr. Rosier, and a few other elite. Only Severus and Regulus were underage—Cassius and Evan, though at the party, were not invited to this particular meeting. They sat in a circle around the massive oak table at the centre of the library, each person gifted with a plush, lush leather chair. Each attendee also drank expensive whiskey from crystal tumblers, just as Severus had seen Lucius do at the Rack and Noose. The room did not disappoint, and Severus felt a surge of lust lash at his heart as he gazed all around him at so many books, so many spells, so many possibilities.

“First, we should congratulate Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, both on their recent marriage as well as their official initiation into the organisation,” Abraxas started. Everyone clapped their hands and thumped the heavy table with palms and fists. “Now then, a few decisions have been made by the Dark Lord, and it is my duty to relate to you his directives. First, I would like to announce that my own son, Lucius, will be initiated on Halloween, at which time he will also marry the very lovely Narcissa Black.”

More applause. Severus noticed that Lucius had become almost lionlike, his long hair like a powerful mane, marking him as king. Narcissa tittered like a schoolgirl, stroking Lucius arm affectionately.

“It has also been decided,” Abraxas continued, “that only Lucius will receive the Mark.”

“That is outrageous!” Mrs. Black exclaimed. “She is every bit devoted as he is!”

“With all due respect, Aunt,” Bellatrix said, “it is not for any of us to countermand the Dark Lord! His word is law!”

“Don’t you dare accuse me, little girl!” Mrs. Black snapped back, her eyes flaring furiously.

Severus raised a hand and cleared his throat. Everyone turned their attention to him, mostly taken aback that a relative stranger would dare speak up at such an important meeting. But Severus pressed on, despite the look of sheer disgust on Bellatrix’s face.

“If I may,” he said, attempting to sound gracious. “I know I am only a schoolboy and am new to all of you, and yet I think that this is a moment for perspective. This is a time to reassess prior allegiances or habits or…” He inclined his head towards Mrs. Black. “…egotism. The Dark Lord knows what must be done, and I think it pertinent to honour that and trust that. I believe he is counting on our unity, under his leadership.”

“You’ve never even met him!” Bellatrix spat.

“Shut up, Bella,” Lucius groaned.

“Well said, Severus,” Rodolphus said, applauding.

“I think you overstep your bounds, Mr. Snape,” Mrs. Black said sternly. “However, you do make a good point. I consider myself rightly rebuked.”

Abraxas regarded Severus with a glimmer of pride, and then resumed his report. As Severus listened and took mental note of everything he heard that night, he felt an emerging riot within himself. These people were clearly in another league, so far beyond even his remotest experience or place in the world that he could barely believe that he was actually sitting there amongst them. He had spoken up officiously, crossing the boundaries of propriety, and yet he was respected for it by these people—or at least by most of them. Not a word was uttered about his nose or his hair or his clothes or his mother, and for the first time, he felt like he could flex his muscles and feel confident that no one would laugh.

Severus Snape found it impossible to sleep, and as he lay in his soft bed in the Black house, he also found it impossible to remove the smile from his face.

* * * * *

The next day, Severus sent an owl to his mother.

_Mum,  
All is well in London. I’ve run into some friends and even went to a little get-together at someone’s house. How are the arrangements going? How’s the garden? If you need help, please owl me and I’ll get there in no time._

_I’ll see you in a week!_

_Severus._

It was a lie, of course, though Severus tried to salve his conscience by equivocating as much as he could stand to. He hated liars, and he hated lying to his mother. But at least he was with the Blacks, rather than stewing away at the Evans place, feeling like a disgraced House Elf. He was sure that Lily would have killed him if he even mentioned the idea of attending a party at Malfoy Manor. Like all her friends, Lily hated that entire family and all they stood for. Severus could see her point, but then again, she had never visited there. How could she make such a radical judgement about a family when she had no clue how they lived?

But he wasn’t quite ready to write her off. She had been genuinely concerned for him the day his father died, and she held his hand during the funeral and sat with him for a little while afterward. Severus couldn’t understand it. It was as if she were two entirely different people. With him, alone, Lily was funny and affectionate and clever and accepting, but the moment she stepped within six feet of Potter, she squirmed uncomfortably, as if he farted in public or ate like a pig in the Great Hall. It would have been almost alright for her to be attracted to Potter if she would at least behave consistently towards him. That hurt more than anything.


	7. Spinner's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Spinner’s End was a far cry from the splendours of Malfoy Manor or the Black mansion. Just a few blocks away stood a dismal muggle factory which spewed out grey smoke every hour of the day, making the entire area smell like harsh chemicals and rotting eggs in varying intensities. Severus’ eyes watered a little as he picked up his bag and walked towards his mother’s house at the end of the street. Where were the trees? Where was any sign of the natural world? It was as if the entire district was constructed by concrete men with steel hearts and icewater in their veins._
> 
> _His heart sank. Eileen deserved better than this. Yet another reason to resent his father and his well-heeled classmates. He was sure that no one at Hogwarts had to live in anything remotely this dismal. Every step towards the Snape residence caused Severus new pains, hotter fury, deeper lusts to escape, to rob and steal and pillage like Abraxas Malfoy. Each house on Spinner’s End looked the same. Small, square, plain, dumpy. Cheap. So when he got to the end of the street, Severus paused in front of the very last house. It was the only one with green grass and flowers and a little tree in the front. He was home._

He found her lounging casually on the salon-lit in the morning room, reading a book. In the morning sunlight, the Dark Mark almost glittered against Bellatrix’s pale skin. Severus wondered what she was reading.

_Ah, love, let us be true  
To one another! For the world, which seems  
To lie before us like a land of dreams,  
So various, so beautiful, so new,  
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,  
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;  
And we are here as on a darkling plain  
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,  
Where ignorant armies clash by night._

Bellatrix closed the book and shut her eyes for a moment. “I love Matthew Arnold,” she said breathlessly. “I love his words about the world, don’t you?”

“You read muggle poetry?” Severus asked, a bit amazed that someone like her would touch anything remotely muggle.

“His mother was a halfblood, you know,” she retorted.

“So are we on a darkling plain?” he asked mirthfully.

“Until the Dark Lord rescues us, yes.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Then let us hope we’re not the ignorant armies that clash by night, right?”

She raised her chin haughtily. “That’s what Gryffindors are for.”

“Perhaps.” Severus chuckled and sat at the small round table in the corner, near the door. He opened up a book on poisonous plants of the Pacific and glanced at a few pictures of beautiful, luscious, lethal flowers.

“You could learn a lot from poetry, you know,” she said, flipping through the thin volume. “This one makes me think of the Dark Lord.”

Severus smirked. “Everything makes you think of the Dark Lord.”

She smiled. “What about you, Severus? What do you think about?”

“And that’s your business?”

“I make everything my business when I’m curious. And I am endlessly curious about you.”

He shut the book on plants and set it down. “Why should you be curious about a sixteen year old student?”

“Because one day very soon you’ll be seventeen—a man. And then you’re going to become even more fascinating to me.” She slinked over to where he sat and draped herself over him. “What you said last night at the party, that took guts.”

“I hate petty bickering,” Severus replied, attempting to squirm away from her. It didn’t work.

“You have ambition, Severus Snape,” she noted. “You know your own power and you’re not afraid to use it. I like that very much.”

“If I remember correctly, you were ready to Crucio my arse last night!”

She laughed. “Well you know what they say, if a woman can’t change her mind, then she doesn’t have one.”

Severus could feel her staring at his face, his dark eyes, his nose. He turned his head a little, but she turned it back towards her.

“I like it,” she whispered. “You know what they say about men with big noses, right? Big upstairs, matching accommodations downstairs.”

Bellatrix grinned at her own joke, then leaned close, her eyes half shut, half still staring at his face, and then she kissed him, tenderly at first, but then hungrily, as if he were the Dark Lord himself. At first, Severus resisted a little, worried about Rodolphus or Mrs. Black or someone else walking in on them, but in a quick instant, as he felt the tip of her tongue against his own, he saw the perfection of it all. 

Her lips were ice cold. Severus hadn’t kissed many girls, two, actually, and usually not when either party was sober, but somehow, this kiss felt entirely, dramatically different from anything he had ever experienced. He wanted to feel lust tear through him so that he might disregard propriety, throw her on the floor and take her. But he didn’t, nor, to his disappointment, did he want to. Though Bellatrix pressed into him and ran her hands up and down his back and chest, she felt almost rigid, like one of those marble statues outside Malfoy Manor. Her skin should have felt warm and soft to his touch, but Severus found quite the opposite. As their kiss deepened and grew more fierce, he wondered about that. Why would a young woman in the throes of passion and temporary lust feel so…dead?

Finally, Bellatrix pulled away, straightening her robes and primping her hair. “I was right about you, Severus,” she said, still panting a little. “So when is your birthday, anyway?”

“January 9.”

Bellatrix flicked her eyebrows wickedly. “You’re going to get a birthday present you’ll never forget.”

Severus knew exactly what she meant and it was the very last thing he wanted. Had it been Lily who made the offer, that would be different. He might even set aside his antipathy towards her friends for just long enough to make the moment truly memorable. But Bellatrix’s offer worried him for other reasons. He had certainly made an impression at the party last night, and people now knew him for his boldness and potential leadership. Severus couldn’t see any other reason why someone like Bellatrix would throw herself at him like that. It made no sense. But it meant follow-through, though, a continuation of the behaviour and attitude he had displayed at the party, and it also meant a change in how he would carry himself at school. 

Severus had started something within himself, and now, he wondered whether he had it in him to see it to the next stage.

* * * * *

The two weeks at the Black mansion on Grimmauld Place passed like a dream, and before he knew it, it was time to go home to this new house he had never seen. After a final exchange of pleasantries and many words of gratitude, Severus took his bag in hand, filled with both his old clothes and his new clothes, cracked a couple of dirty jokes with Regulus, and disapparated to his mother’s new house.

Spinner’s End was a far cry from the splendours of Malfoy Manor or the Black mansion. Just a few blocks away stood a dismal muggle factory which spewed out grey smoke every hour of the day, making the entire area smell like harsh chemicals and rotting eggs in varying intensities. Severus’ eyes watered a little as he picked up his bag and walked towards his mother’s house at the end of the street. Where were the trees? Where was any sign of the natural world? It was as if the entire district was constructed by concrete men with steel hearts and icewater in their veins.

His heart sank. Eileen deserved better than this. Yet another reason to resent his father and his well-heeled classmates. He was sure that no one at Hogwarts had to live in anything remotely this dismal. Every step towards the Snape residence caused Severus new pains, hotter fury, deeper lusts to escape, to rob and steal and pillage like Abraxas Malfoy. Each house on Spinner’s End looked the same. Small, square, plain, dumpy. Cheap. So when he got to the end of the street, Severus paused in front of the very last house. It was the only one with green grass and flowers and a little tree in the front. He was home.

Inside, the house smelled a little musty, still dusty from the move from their old, much bigger house. Severus glanced around at the walls of shelves in the front room, mostly empty except for a couple of books and a blue vase with plastic flowers. The sofa was new, though it didn’t exactly match anything else in the room. The corner cabinet contained a series of glass bottles, his mother’s assortment of potions and potions ingredients. It was an act of sheer will for Severus to withhold the shock of his intense disappointment in the place—he vowed never to bring a single person over, no matter what. He felt jaded and old, and all he wanted to do now was put out the candles and go bed for the next two years. But his mother was home. Bed and gloominess would have to wait.

“Severus!” his mother’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Is that you?” She emerged, wearing pale blue, floral robes that were at least fifteen years old, threadbare around the collar. But her smile was bright and cheerful—Severus hadn’t seen his mother smile for a very long time.

“I just got here!” He gave her a big hug.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, motioning for him to look around.

“It’s great!” he lied.

She mussed his hair. “It’s crap, but thanks anyway.”

“It’s fine, Mum, really. You know me, I mean, I’m pretty happy as long as I’ve got a massive library.”

“It’s a lot smaller than the old house,” she noted.

“Yeah.”

“But that was a rental, and I couldn’t afford to keep up the payments,” she explained. Severus wished she wouldn’t explain. “But this house belongs to us. It’s not much, but it is a little investment for us…for you.”

“I know.”

Eileen led her son by the elbow to the little metal table in the tiny dining area. “So tell me about London.”

Severus had prepared for this moment, though it caused him pain to endure it. After all, if she found out that he had not only disobeyed her but had lied to her for two weeks and then went to a Death Eater party where he had made a name for himself, she would have thrown him into the street.

“I was busy most of the time. I saw a few people I knew, I read a lot, I went to Diagon Alley.”

“You didn’t go to Knockturn Alley, did you?”

“No!” Finally, the truth!

“Who did you see?”

Severus hesitated, figuring how to play this. “I ran into Regulus Black in Diagon Alley,” he answered, looking her straight in the eye.

“Severus, I told you…”

“We just talked, that’s all! Besides, he was with his mother, so it wasn’t like we could exactly hang out.”

Eileen seemed satisfied. “I had an owl from Mrs. Evans last week, sending condolences.”

Severus scowled. “And?”

“She said that Lily is worried about you,” Eileen said.

“Fabulous,” he said drily.

“I’ve made some great friends with some of our neighbours, you know,” Eileen said, sensing Severus’ discomfort. “It turns out that the family just a couple of doors down are Squibs! Well, the husband is. Mrs. Harpe is a muggle, but she’s really quite a lovely woman.”

Severus let his mother talk, about the neighbours, about the move, the garden, whatever she wanted. He didn’t want to answer any more questions about London, and he didn’t want to tell any more lies. He definitely didn’t want to tell her he had just snogged a Death Eater or that she was married to another Death Eater. As Severus listened blithely to his mother telling him everything on her mind and heart, he felt sick with grief and self-hatred. He wanted to rush to Lily and tell her she was right about everything and to beg her forgiveness.

But he didn’t. Instead, later that night after a huge dinner Eileen had prepared for his return, he sat in his creaky old bed, staring blankly out the barred window, seeing nothing but his mother’s bright face and Bellatrix’s cold hands against his pounding heart. He wanted to run away, but it was too late for that. An owl passed his window, its wings whispering to the wind, giving Severus no comfort. It was too late to do anything but more forward, to continue this path he had blazed for himself, worrying now that his mother would never forgive him.

* * * * *

The next morning, Eileen’s attitude was somewhat more stern than she had been the previous day when Severus returned home. Severus awoke to find that his traveling bag was wide open and that every stitch of clothing was gone. His heart skipped a beat as he made the horrible realization—his mother had laundered his clothes…the old and the brand new. There would be questions. Ugly, unfortunate questions. Severus braced himself, wondering how he would get out of this without having to lie too much.

They sat quietly at breakfast, eating eggs and bacon and drinking fresh tea. Severus kept his eyes on his plate, but Eileen kept her eyes fixed on her son. She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a small parchment.

“Here,” she said, handing Severus the scroll. “Read it.”

Severus chewed on the inside of his cheeks nervously. His throat felt tight.

_To whom it may concern,  
My name is Eileen Snape, and I am writing to confirm that my son, Severus Snape, was a guest at the Leaky Cauldron for the last two weeks. He is tall, with dark long hair, and wears black robes. If you have seen him as a guest, please inform me by return owl. Thank you._

_Sincerely,  
Eileen Snape._

He found it hard to breathe just then. “What’s this for?” he asked.

“I have never felt a need to check up on you, Severus,” Eileen said. “I have always trusted you, and so far, you have never given me a reason to pry into your private affairs.”

“Mum, you can still trust me,” Severus replied, a little too forcefully.

“Then you can tell me where you got those new robes. There is no way that you could afford those on your own.”

Severus breathed in sharply through his nose. “Mrs. Black gave them to me.”

Eileen narrowed her eyes at him. “When?”

“Remember, I told you I ran into them in Diagon Alley? Well, her oldest son, Sirius, recently left home, and he left behind some of his robes. We’re about the same size, and she saw the state of my own clothes and wanted me to have new robes.”

“Then how did she give them to you? Tell me you didn’t go to that house!”

“She had them sent. The Elf brought them.”

Eileen didn’t reply right away. Severus could see her mind working furiously, weighing whether she could believe what he had just told her. With all his powers of reserve, Severus looked at his mother as coolly as he dared, burying this new guilt deep inside himself.

“Give me that parchment,” she said quietly.

His hand trembled only once, then he handed the scroll to his mother. She tore it up.

“I want to trust you, Severus,” she said. “But your chances are running out. If I find out that you have lied to me about what you’ve been doing, I will have no choice but to pull you out of Hogwarts. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“You have a rare opportunity, you know,” she continued. “I had a visit last week from Professor Dumbledore and…”

“What? What did HE want?” Severus snapped. That made him very uneasy. Dumbledore…knew things, had ways of getting information about people.

“HE wanted to talk about your future, actually,” she shot back. “After you father died…” she sighed, “…I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to afford to send you to school any more. Your father was a rat, but he did support us. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore has set up a trust fund for you, to pay for your tuition, school supplies and books and school robes for the next two years.”

He should have felt relieved, but Severus could only feel resentful…yet another shame forced on him. “In exchange for what?” he asked.

“What sort of question is that?” Eileen replied, offended.

“That’s a lot of money. You’re telling me he’s just giving it to me with no strings?”

“Whatever strings there are is a matter between me and Professor Dumbledore,” Eileen replied. “It’s a personal agreement, nothing more. I’m sorry, Severus but you’re just going to have to be satisfied with that.”

But Severus wasn’t so sure he could, especially after telling his mother a string of serious lies. His only wish now was that the rest of the summer would pass quickly so that he could get back to Hogwarts and Regulus and far away from Spinner’s End and all that guilt.


	8. Muggle-Baiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night on the town with Lucius, Bellatrix, Regulus, and the Lestrange brothers takes a dark turn as they play Bellatrix's favorite game: Muggle-Baiting. This is Severus' first real taste of Death Eater activity, but does he have the stomach to endure the horrors they create?

He knew she would be angry. She might even throw him out of the house for this, but Severus couldn’t resist the opportunity. It was an invitation, not from Regulus this time, but from Lucius Malfoy, just to hang out for a few hours at the Rack and Noose. It would be the usual sort of night—drinking, dancing, carousing, snogging whatever girls were around. Telling his mother, however, proved to be a challenge, however, when Eileen told him she would be spending the evening with the Harpes, Severus was overjoyed.

“What about you, Severus?” she asked.

“Would it be alright if I went to the Wizarding National Archives? They’re open until midnight, and there’s some research I want to do on manticore blood.”

“The Archives are all the way in London!” she reminded him. “How are you going to get there?”

“Floo Powder.”

Eileen kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t stay out all night in Hyde Park, alright? There’s a lot of weirdos around at night.”

“I’ll be fine, Mum, honestly!” He hustled her out the door and watched her make her way down the pathway, out into the street and over to the Harpes’ place. Once she was far out of sight, Severus grabbed a cloak and his wand, dashed out the back door and disapparated to the Black mansion.

Everyone was there, or so it looked to a wide-eyed Severus. Not only the Black family, including Narcissa and Bellatrix, but Lucius, Rodolphus and his brother, Rabastan, plus none other than Orion Black, Regulus’ elusive father. In fact, as many times as Severus had been to the house, he had never even seen Mr. Black. He was younger than Severus expected, even younger than Mrs. Black. Like Regulus, he was tall and regal and refined, but there was a hardness about him, as if he were an old soldier who had waged terrible wars in the distant past but still harboured the grim memory.

Regulus rushed to Severus and pounced on him playfully. “You just missed him!” he crowed.

“The Dark Lord was here,” Bellatrix said reverently. “I can still feel his presence in this room.” She stroked the chair where Severus assumed the Dark Lord must have sat.

“There’s a chance you’ll get to meet him before you go back to school, though,” Lucius offered.

“That would be wonderful,” Severus replied, more than a little curious to finally meet the man that all these people seemed to worship like a god.

“Walburga speaks very highly of you, young man,” Mr. Black said genteelly to Severus.

“Your wife has been extremely good to me this summer, sir,” he replied smoothly.

“Severus is the one who’s been keeping our Regulus on the straight and narrow,” Mrs. Black told her husband.

Regulus glanced over at Lucius, who gave him a hint of a smirk back. Mrs. Black scowled.

“Well, we can only be grateful that we have the law on our side, isn’t that so, Lucius?” Severus said. Lucius reddened slightly, but Regulus only laughed.

“Mother is convinced I’m up to no good,” Regulus said.

“You are up to no good,” Mrs. Black replied sternly, “but my dear, the problem is that you’re up to the kind of no good that I do not approve of. You boys should go muggle-baiting tonight. That would quite fun for you, don’t you think?”

“Hey, why only the boys?” Bellatrix prostested. “I love muggle-baiting!”

“That’s because you’re a psycho, Bella,” Lucius drawled.

“And you’re a pervert,” she shot back.

“Well,” Mrs. Black said encouragingly, “why don’t you kids take Severus out for a night of fun? Have you been muggle-baiting, my dear?”

“Uh, no,” Severus replied, a bit dumbfounded by her maternal tone, as if she were suggesting that they all go and play Gobstones or have a Quidditch match in the back garden.

Bellatrix laughed, then put out her arm to show the room a huge, diamond encrusted bracelet dangling from her wrist. “Isn’t it beautiful? Roddy and I went down to that posh muggle shopping district and vanished a shedload of jewels. Look! He got himself a gold Rolex!”

Everyone ooohed and aaahed at the sight of the glittering piece, sparkling on Rodolphus’ left wrist. “There’s seven more,” he said gruffly. “One for every day of the week and for special occasions!”

That made everyone burst out laughing.

“I bet those stupid muggles are still scratching their heads and wondering what happened to their precious jewels!” Regulus exclaimed.

That festive mood stayed with them all as they made their way to the Rack and Noose a half hour later. Mr. and Mrs. Black stayed behind, wanting to make it an early night, and Narcissa wanted to get home before midnight, insisting that she needed her beauty rest. Neither Lucius nor Regulus tried to dissuade her. As they sat around a table in a dark corner of the pub, Lucius explained to Severus what muggle-baiting was.

“It’s fairly self-explanatory, I’m sure you know,” he said.

“Like pulling pranks on muggles?” Severus guessed.

Bellatrix let out an impromptu cackle. “Pranks? Yeah, right! Pranks!” She snorted back a giggle.

“Some have their specific methods,” Lucius went on, “though personally, I prefer to be more spontaneous, especially when I’ve got more than one muggle backed into a corner. That’s when it gets fun.”

“Remember that big fat one that you pumped full of air?” Bellatrix said, still cackling. “I didn’t think you’d really pop him with a real knife, though! That was inspired!”

Severus suppressed a gasp. “You mean you killed him?”

“I didn’t! Bellatrix did!” Lucius said defencively.

“I was doing that fat pig a favour!” Bella sneered pompously. But then she turned to Severus and patted him on the hand. “But don’t worry, Severus, we won’t kill anyone tonight…that is, unless you want to.”

Severus shrugged diffidently. “I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Lucius grinned. “You’re a cold-hearted son of a bitch, Snape. I like that.” He put a hand on Regulus’ knee.

Two hours and five whiskeys later, the little group was off to Mayfair, ready for a night of fun. Going down a very dark street, they passed large house after large house—each mansion reminded Severus of the crummy little row-house on Spinner’s End. Dark envy bubbled up in him, and suddenly, he wanted these rich muggles to pay. Lucius and Regulus led the way, and every now and again, Severus noticed that Lucius would reach for Regulus’ hand, or even brush his own hand against Regulus’ backside. Bellatrix poked Severus in the ribs and laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, “this is as far as they’ll go.”

Finally, they stood before a stately home painted stark white, surrounded by a tall privet that shielded the house from prying eyes.

“Perfect,” Lucius said, spotting a light from the inside of the house. “The muggles are home.”

* * * * *

The expensive furniture was tossed every which way, battered and shattered and splintered on the elegant floors as if a tornado had hit a museum. Gaping holes stared out at the bound and terrified muggle family, even as the television in the background continued to jabber on about the news of the day. The muggle woman, clearly the mother of the family, sat in her long, white nightdress and pink bathrobe, shaking with sheer fright as these strangely dressed intruders ransacked their home, somehow opened their safe, stole their money and blasted more holes in the walls and windows.

The muggle child, a boy of no more than nine, kept trying to get to his feet to defend his parents and his home, but every time, Bellatrix would perform the Jelly Legs Jinx on him, and he would once again collapse to the floor, struggling to free his hands.

“What do you want?” the muggle father kept shouting.

Bellatrix jabbed her wand at him. “Crucio!” she shouted. The man went chalk white, and his entire body went rigid as excruciating pain tore through him, caused by something he could never understand. Finally, Bellatrix lifted her wand when the woman started to cry once again.

“I’m going to call the police!” the woman shouted. “You’re going to rot in hell, you freaks!”

Bellatrix sidled up to Severus, who stood in a far corner of the wrecked room, his hands at his side. “Did you hear that?” Bellatrix said. “She called us freaks. Do you like that, Sev?”

Severus hesitated. He had been more than willing to knock around a few chairs, but now, he could see that this was getting out of hand. “No,” he finally said.

“I think she deserves to be punished, don’t you?”

Severus looked around at the destruction they had caused. A fine dust gave the room a misty look, as if he were looking through bleary, dreamy eyes at this scene of domestic chaos.

And then… “Oh, come on, Bella!” Lucius snapped. “I think these fine people have learned their lesson, don’t you, Roddy?”

Regulus stood next to Severus. He put a shaking hand on Severus’ wrist. Severus could hear him breathing in shallow, quick gasps. He could also feel his own throat tighten.

“For now,” Rodolphus said. But he also gave a wink to Bellatrix, who winked back.

“Come on, then,” Lucius said. “Let’s get out of here.” He walked out into the elegant foyer and crinkled his nose. “I really hate the stink of muggle filth,” he said to Severus, Regulus and Rabastan, who exited just behind him. “Bella! Roddy! Get your arses out here!”

Just then, two voices rang out, male and female in unison. “Bombarda!”

The sound of a bomb exploded, with dust and drywall and glass and wood flying in every direction, each one a potentially deadly missile. Bellatrix and Rodolphus bolted into the foyer, and together, the six hooting, shouting wizards pelted out of the house as the entire right side of it collapsed like a colossal wreck. Lucius grabbed Regulus while Bellatrix grabbed Severus, and as one, they disapparated, landing once again just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Together, they dashed through, ran like the wind down Diagon Alley, rounding the corner into Knockturn Alley, ending up back at the Rack and Noose.

Rabastan ordered beers for everyone whilst Lucius led them all to the same back table. Bellatrix threw herself into a chair, grabbed Rodolphus and kissed him wildly, then sat back and straightened her hair.

“My heart is still pounding!” she laughed.

“Mine, too!” Rabastan said, joining them. He placed a black bag on the table for all to see. “Contents of the safe,” he explained.

“Oo! Let’s see what we’ve got here!” Bellatrix pulled the bag to herself and pulled out the contents one by one. 

Five huge stacks of muggle money, seven black velvet boxes, each containing stunning diamond jewels, some papers that looked like legal stuff—she tossed that into the hearth—a strand of large, very white pearls.

“Your mother would like pearls, right, Severus?” she asked.

He didn’t reach out for them right away, though. “I don’t know if I want my mother wearing second-hand pearls.”

Rodolphus laughed at that. “Sell ‘em. Take the money. Put it in your Gringott’s vault.” He pushed the strand at Severus.

Severus stared at the pearls for a moment, picturing them on the throat of the woman they had just tormented…and possibly killed. A pearl is obtained from an oyster by torture, by invasion. How was this any different? But they were beautiful, especially in the firelight, glittering away. Severus glanced at a very pale Regulus, then pocketed the pearls.

Bellatrix kicked Lucius under the table. “Your boyfriend is freaked out,” she laughed.

Lucius rolled his eyes indignantly. “Bella, shut up.”

“I’m not freaked out,” Regulus said defencively. “I’m just tired.”

Bellatrix gave him an unctuous smile. “Right, Regulus. Tired. I guess it is past your bedtime. Is it past your bedtime, Severus?”

“I’m only a schoolboy,” he said lightly. “What do you think?”

“I think you need someone to tuck you in.”

“I can do that just fine, but thanks all the same,” he replied.

Bellatrix giggled. “With which hand?”

Lucius frowned. “I think it’s time for all of us to call it a night, yes?”

Severus nodded gratefully.

* * * * *

It was terribly late by the time he got back to Spinner’s End. Unforgivably late. Severus braced himself for the inevitable lecture of staying out all night and getting into trouble. He wondered how he would cover up this night’s adventure. How would he explain the expensive pearl necklace in his pocket, or the dust in his hair from the collapsing house? The muggle woman’s terrified shrieks still rang in his ears, and the sight of Regulus’ pallor and fright haunted his tired eyes.

Entering the front door would be a very bad idea, so Severus decided to enter through the back, but as he approached, he saw that the kitchen light was on. He also saw that his mother was not alone. Could it be the Harpes? Could it be a muggle policeman here to arrest Severus for theft and murder? He uttered a silent incantation, and with a slight wave of his hand, unlocked the door, entering noiselessly into the house, shutting it carefully behind him so that his mother wouldn’t hear him. Severus removed his shoes and socks and cloak, folding them carefully and setting them down next to the door. Then he crept to the kitchen, making sure to say in the dark shadows of the corridor.

Crouching down, Severus listened in on the conversation between his mother and…Professor Dumbledore? What? Why was he here, and why at three in the morning? It was inconceivable to Severus, and as the conversation continued, he became even more confused.

“I want to tell him, Albus,” Eileen said. Tell him? Who? Tell what? Severus’ mind raced.

“You can’t right now! That would be a very great mistake!” Dumbledore replied, sounding veru urgent.

“He has a right to know, and if I wait, I might lose him forever!”

“And if you tell him right now, you will lose him even sooner. He is not strong enough for his, Eileen. You simply must trust me on this. He will not survive such a terrible blow.”

Severus could hear his mother sniffle and sob, making him want to rush in there and throttle Dumbledore once and for all. But he waited, aching to hear more. What was this thing she wanted to tell?

“We need him, Eileen.”

“I know you do! That’s why I want to tell him, to clear the air! He has to know before he gets in any deeper! They’ll destroy him!”

“You’ve got to think rationally about this,” Dumbledore said. “I know how scared you are, but we need to let this play out for now. We can’t force him, and news like this will likely drive him farther away. It will make it impossible for us, and like you, I can’t afford to lose him.”

Silence. Sniffles. The clink of a teacup on a saucer. They were finishing up. Quickly, Severus snatched up his shoes and his cloak and went straight to his room, where he threw down his things with a thud. His heart pounded and nerves were all afire. All Severus could do was pace up and down back and forth, running every possible scenario through his blazing mind. What was this all about? What did they want with him? What would they do to him? How would he continue to lie to his mother in light of this strange, terrifying development?

He didn’t sleep a wink that night.


	9. Truth and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Eileen cooked and cooked, as if she were expecting guests—but no one came, though the food she made started to occupy every spare inch of counter space in the tiny kitchen. She made roasted chicken and Chinese noodles and even kebabs one day—enough for an army, in fact. Severus had never seen his mother like this before, so anxious and so stressed. Even the worst parts of her marriage, she always managed to remain somewhat calm, for her son’s sake, but this was entirely different, as if the weight of her secret had clouded some deep part of her mind or consciousness._

She didn’t say anything to him the next morning. In fact, Eileen didn’t say much to Severus for three days. He had a suspicion that she was constantly thinking about that conversation with Dumbledore, likely wrestling with her conscience about whether to reveal whatever this devastating secret was to Severus. He wished she would, but on the other hand, he feared what Dumbledore had said, that this might destroy him for good. Perhaps there was another way of finding the truth of the matter. One thing Severus know for certain was that he couldn’t simply ask her—she would know he had heard their conversation and then she would ask why he was listening in and where he was that night, and then he’d have to lie all over again.

Severus remained silent, but vigilant, always looking for some sign that might offer him a clue. So far, though, nothing.

Eileen cooked and cooked, as if she were expecting guests—but no one came, though the food she made started to occupy every spare inch of counter space in the tiny kitchen. She made roasted chicken and Chinese noodles and even kebabs one day—enough for an army, in fact. Severus had never seen his mother like this before, so anxious and so stressed. Even the worst parts of her marriage, she always managed to remain somewhat calm, for her son’s sake, but this was entirely different, as if the weight of her secret had clouded some deep part of her mind or consciousness.

Finally, Severus decided he had to say something, especially since he was now eating so much that his robes were starting to get a little tight around the middle.

“What’s with all the gourmet nights, Mum?” he asked, just after he had put away three-fourths of a roasted chicken, a huge baked potato and a mound of steamed spinach. “You trying to fatten me up?”

“Maybe,” she said. “You’re always too thin. I worry about you.”

“My weight is fine, Mum. You know how I am. I prefer to eat rather sparingly.”

“Eating is a social function, too, Severus,” she said, spooning more spinach onto his empty plate.

“Mum! Enough with the food!” he exclaimed, annoyed. “Why are you cooking so much anyway? You never did this before.”

“Your father was never very adventurous with food,” Eileen replied, taking a little more chicken for herself. “Roast beef, fried potatoes, plain carrots. That’s about it. You’re a little like him in that way.”

“Spare me the comparison,” Severus replied sourly. “Mum, is something bothering you?”

She bobbled her wine glass, but didn’t spill. “Maybe a little.”

“You know you can tell me anything, Mum.”

Her eyes teared up, and she reached for a handkerchief.

“Mum?” Severus asked, pained.

She blew her nose, which made her cheeks turn bright pink, then took a long drink of wine. “I’m fine, Severus, really. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Her eyes teared up again, and she hastened to cover her face with her shaking hands. Severus moved his chair over to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Mum, you’re scaring me,” he said. “What’s going on?” But he made sure to avoid any reference to Dumbledore. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, silly, of course not!” she replied, again blowing her nose. “Severus, just promise me that whatever you do, you won’t get involved with those Death Eaters. This is serious.”

“Didn’t we just have this conversation?” he grumbled.

“And we’ll keep having it until you see reason,” she shot back. Eileen stoked his hand and kissed his fingertips. “I’ve been a second-rate mother, Severus. I haven’t done a good job protecting you from your father. I know that and I have to live with that regret.”

Now Severus’ eyes welled with tears, which enraged him. This was the last emotional state he wanted to be in at this important juncture in his life. “Mum you did alright.”

“No, baby, I didn’t. I let you down every time I stood by and watched him beat you down. That’s why you run with the likes of Regulus Black, isn’t it?”

A chill rushed through Severus’ body, and he felt as though she had just torn off his clothes on a crowded street. He retracted his hand and took a drink of pumpkin juice.

“Regulus has…he has connections. He knows important people,” Severus admitted. “He knows people who can give me what I want. I’m not just thinking about me, Mum. I’m thinking about you, too, what you deserve.”

She rolled her eyes derisively. “Severus, you are clever, talented, knowledgeable, powerful. You have the potential to be one of the great wizards of the age. I believe that! I believe you have a greater purpose in this world, but you’re not going to achieve that with the Death Eaters!”

“You don’t know that, Mum,” he replied, frustrated. “There are two kinds of people who make any sort of real advancement in this world—the very beautiful and the very rich. It doesn’t matter about my talents or how many OWLs I achieved, Mum! Look at me!”

She smiled tenderly. “I think you’re beautiful, Severus.”

“Well you’re the only one who does, believe me,” he spat. “So long as I have this face and this hair, the only way for me to get where I want to be is through the likes of Regulus Black!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s the truth! Who is going to hire me? Who wants to look at me like this? But with a power base behind me, with the right connections, then I can really do something!”

Eileen sat back and stared at her son, her face pale from disbelief and revulsion. “I…I don’t know who you are,” she said softly.

“You’re overreacting.”

“No, I’m quite serious. Then you’re determined, no matter what I say?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Severus replied. “I’m not being reckless. Honestly, Mum.”

Eileen looked down for a moment, studying her hands, her fingers. They were long and slim, not made for all the hard work she had endured throughout her adult life. She noticed that her son’s hands were like hers, though she also noticed for the first time that his fingers were more like talons, strong and powerful and potentially lethal. They felt cold to her touch.

“Right, then.” Eileen looked into his black eyes, always so full of energy and passion, even now. “You turn seventeen in January, and then you’ll be a man, an adult. Independent. The moment that happens, Severus…” She paused, stifling a sob. “The moment you turn seventeen, you will not be allowed to live in this house.”

The eternity of a second passed, pummeling Severus’ lungs and stomach and knees. But he remained stoic from the outside, looking away from his mother.

“You have chosen a path which I have forbidden you,” she said quietly. “You have made a man’s decision, an independent decision, and thus, you will have to live…independently. Is that clear?”

Severus nodded. “Extremely so.”

* * * * *

Severus kept this new arrangement to himself, holding it to himself like a talisman, refusing to betray this unexpected struggle to anyone, including Regulus. The last week of August, the two Slytherins met at the Rack and Noose, just to hang out. No muggle-baiting, no drunkenness, no Lucius or Bellatrix. Just two friends. During the day, the pub looked particularly unimpressive. The stone walls were a gloomy grey, and the floor was black and pocked by centuries of bar fights and carousing and trouble. Regulus drank ale, but Severus only drank butterbeer.

“So did you have to sneak out to come here?” Regulus asked with a laugh.

“No. I had it out with my mother and she understands me now.” Severus took a long drink and stared out the window at a passing witch walking a beautiful black Great Dane.

“Lucky you,” Regulus replied.

“You do any more muggle-baiting?” Severus asked, eager to change the subject.

Regulus nodded, casting his eyes down for a quick moment. “Lucius really knows how to live it up, right?”

“I suppose. It’s rather crass entertainment, though.”

“Yeah.” Regulus chewed on his lower lip and tapped his fingers on the table. “Bella thinks I’m a pussy.”

Severus chuckled at that. “I thought you were more of a lapdog than a pussy.”

“I don’t know, I mean, maybe she’s right.”

“She’s kind of a nutter.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she? But I don’t think she’s crazy. Gods, I want to be like her, you know?”

“Married to Roddy?”

Regulus flipped Severus the finger. “No, stupid! She’s just so…fearless, you know? Totally brazen, totally confident. I like to think I am, but then when I get into the centre of it all, I just freeze up! It’s so frustrating, and then Bella tears into me and makes jokes about my being…gay.”

“You are gay.”

“Well I know that! But that doesn’t mean I’m a weakling!”

“Of course not!”

Regulus took another drink of ale. “I guess I just don’t understand myself sometimes. I know what I want but I don’t seem to have the…whatever to grasp for it!”

Severus laughed. “Give yourself a break, Regulus! You’re not even fifteen yet! Bella is just being a bully! Don’t let her get to you like that. You have no reason to doubt yourself.”

Regulus smiled, now playing with the salt shaker on the table. “You remind me of Sirius a little.”

Severus nearly choked on his butterbeer at that. “Please, spare me your compliments, Regulus.”

“I know you guys hate each other. When we were younger, a lot younger, Sirius used to say stuff like that to me, especially whenever I had an argument with my parents.”

That sounded odd to Severus. Regulus arguing with his parents? “Over what?”

Regulus shrugged. “Oh you know, this and that. Normal stuff. Anyway, having you at the house in July was like having a brother again.”

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“I don’t miss the fighting and I don’t miss having to hear all those shouting matches between him and them, especially when they argued over me. I hated those nights! It was like I had to choose sides—my parents or my brother.” Regulus took a long drink from his glass and waved to the proprietor for a refill. The proprietor brought both boys new glasses.

“But you made the right choice,” Severus said. “You didn’t give in to sentimentalism and phoniness. You chose the cause, whereas Sirius chose himself.” He stopped himself from more dangerous thoughts just then.

Regulus scowled briefly. “You sound like my mother. I mean, maybe you’re right.”

Severus raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Maybe?”

“OK, definitely.” He drank again.

Severus reached out and pulled Regulus’ glass towards himself. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

Regulus put a hand on Severus’. “Say, you won’t blab any of this to the guys, will you?”

“Why would I?”

“’Cause guys talk. I mean, if Cassius or Evan found out I was…well, you know, I mean, I don’t know what they’d do to me. They’re not exactly the most tolerant guys in the world.” He retrieved his glass and took another drink.

“Regulus, you have my confidence. Always.”

Regulus sat back and grinned wickedly just then. “If you were gay, I’d go out with you in a second.”

Severus glared at him. “Don’t mock me, Regulus. I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not mocking you! I’m totally serious!”

Severus leaned forward on his elbows. “So what is it that you’re attracted to, Black? My enormously massive proboscis or my glittering personality?”

“Your strength.”

That made Severus laugh.

“And the fact that I can never figure you out,” Regulus continued. “You’ve got this talent for letting everyone around you spill their guts whilst you just sit aside like a spy and gather information. Thank goodness I can trust you.”

Unexpectedly, Regulus gripped the back of Severus’ neck, pulled him forward roughly so that their bottles and glasses tipped over with a crescendo of clinks, and kissed him on lips. Just as quickly, Severus struggled out of his grip and shoved him back.

“What the hell?” he snapped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

But Regulus only laughed. “I was just testing you out, mate, making sure!”

“You’re as crazy as your cousin, Black!”

Regulus took another drink. “Yeah, but I bet I kiss better, right? Bella told me she sort of ambushed you, only you didn’t exactly shove her off you.”

“She is, I’m sure you’ve noticed, decidedly female,” Severus replied, taking a drink from Regulus’ nearly empty ale glass.

“So come on, Sev, who kisses better? Her or me?”

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you ask Lucius? He has streets more experience than myself.”

* * * * *

So many thoughts, so much irreconcilable conflict. He was officially kicked out, well, as of January 9. What would he do? Where would he go with no money and no place to stay? The very last thing Severus wanted was to go crawling to the Blacks, begging for a little room for the summer. In light of that kiss Regulus gave him, Severus was even more reluctant to stay there. In truth, there were too many unsettling questions about that whole family that made Severus wonder about his plans.

Their motto, engraved all over that house, was “Toujours pur.” Pureblooded. Only and always pureblooded. Would Regulus ever find out about Tobias? What would he think learning that his close friend and confidante was half-blooded? Regulus knew that Severus was not rich, but that didn’t seem to bother him much. Lack of money was easily rectified, especially for budding Death Eaters whose favorite Saturday night hobby was to torture and rob muggles. Severus could tolerate that to some extent. He was fairly sure of that.

But how to change ones blood status? That was impossible, and therefore, a man like Albus Dumbledore became even more dangerous to Severus. Dumbledore undoubtedly knew that Eileen had killed her husband, and so he had to know that Tobias was a muggle. And apparently he had some other secret that was potentially fatal, one he had forbidden Eileen to reveal. That angered Severus, but it also scared him. For days and weeks he tried to figure out what it was, and so far, he hadn’t learned a thing. But if he could somehow find new ways of discerning information, then he could perhaps sneak in…

Severus sat bolt upright in his bed, staring at the blank wall across from him. He heard once before about an obscure branch of magic something called Legilimency. Though he hadn’t read about Legilimency, Severus remembered hearing someone…where was it?...yes, now he knew. It was two wizards at the Malfoy Manor party that threw around that word. Something about the Dark Lord being a master of the art of Legilimency and Occlumency. Severus could suddenly see the value of both methods, realising just how much leverage that could give him, both in his desire to learn this secret, and in many other contexts.

He made a silent note to himself to look into Legilimency as soon as he awoke the next day. His heart pounded with new excitement, wanting to rush out and tell everything to Regulus, knowing that his friend would likely be just as thrilled. He might even kiss him again.

That strange kiss troubled Severus. Regulus, in fact was right about himself—he was a better kisser than Bellatrix. Though he harboured no secret desire for Regulus, Severus suddenly understood someone like Lucius, who was no more interested in men than Severus was. Yet Lucius toyed publically with Regulus, caressed him, held his hand, let Regulus flirt with him and flatter him in the absence of Narcissa. Severus began to wonder about himself, just a little. Could he do the same thing? Could he lead someone on like that, knowingly use them, and then simply toss them aside when the real thing came along? 

Lucius may have known his limits, and knew what lines not to transgress, but as Mrs. Black had pointed out weeks ago, Regulus wasn’t so controlled. After all, he kissed Severus openly, in broad daylight in a half-crowded pub. But even more importantly, Regulus had laid bare his troubles to Severus, allowed Severus to penetrate his heart and his mind to dangerous levels of intimacy. A tear slithered down his cool cheek, snaking down his neck, disappearing into his nightshirt.

“I can’t,” he told himself silently. “I can’t reveal every part of myself like that. I can’t be what Regulus wants.”

He wouldn’t.


	10. An Entourage of Vassals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The summer holiday was over, and now, it was time for Severus to return to school, finally ready to embrace his future. Looking back, he couldn’t see himself any longer as the same person he had once been. That taste of bloodlust had been piqued by his outings with the likes of Lucius and Bellatrix, and though they would return to the controlled environment of Hogwarts, Severus figured he could still manage to exercise his new sense of power and entitlement. And he could study the art of Legilimency, fill his mind with new ideas that would help him in what he sought._
> 
> Now if only Lily could understand.

The time had come—the summer holiday was over, and now, it was time for Severus to return to school, finally ready to embrace his future. Looking back, he couldn’t see himself any longer as the same person he had once been. That taste of bloodlust had been piqued by his outings with the likes of Lucius and Bellatrix, and though they would return to the controlled environment of Hogwarts, Severus figured he could still manage to exercise his new sense of power and entitlement. And he could study the art of Legilimency, fill his mind with new ideas that would help him in what he sought.

Eileen did not accompany him to the station.

Back on Platform 9 ¾, Severus walked taller as he moved among his peers, intricately aware of each muscle in his body, every tilt of his head. Dressed in the new robes from Mrs. Black, he noticed that many people looked at him a little differently, perhaps with a bit of deference, as if he were not someone to cross. He liked that. It was different from their usual regard, which mingled mild disgust with heavy-handed mirth, especially after what happened during exams. In defiance, Severus made sure to hold his head high, as Regulus often did when he pulled rank to get what he wanted.

On the train, Severus spotted Lily and her friends through the tangle of students but did not speak to any of them. Instead, he swept imperiously past their compartment, joining Regulus, Cassius and Evan in the very back of the train; soon, they were joined by Damien Mulciber and the Carrow siblings—Amycus and Alecto. Severus was eager talk about everything they all did that summer, about the parties and the exciting speeches and even that kiss with the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, but he reconsidered, suddenly thinking that it would be better if the others pressed him for information. That would give him control, which he could then use to his own benefit during the year.

He strove to be as mysterious as the Dark Lord himself, perhaps even more so, taking care to tuck all these new joys and excitements deep into his heart where none could intrude. Severus sat amongst them like a true prince, holding court over them, casually awaiting their unswerving fidelity. He hid that desire, too.

Instead, he decided to interrogate Mulciber about his summer.

“Met up with a couple of blokes from Durmstrang,” he said, his voice like heavy rubber. “We ran around, you know, had a bit of a laugh and all.”

“We went muggle-baiting, right, Sev?” Regulus bragged.

“Regulus nearly wet himself with excitement,” Severus said silkily. Everyone laughed, including Regulus.

“Serves the bloody muggles right!” Mulciber growled. “I hate the lot of them! My Dad likes to Crucio muggle couples snogging in the part at night.” He laughed thickly. “Can you imagine? Getting all kissy with your filthy muggle lover and then POW! Right in the back!”

Severus thought about his father just then. He grinned. “They got what they deserved,” he said quietly. His knees trembled with silent rage.

“I think if I found out I was related to muggles, I’d commit suicide!” Evan said loudly. More laughter. More agreement. Severus’ eyes darkened.

“Lucius said the same thing the other day,” Regulus bragged.

Severus scowled, suppressing new fury. “I thought your mother didn’t want you around Malfoy,” he said.

Regulus nudged Severus’ foot. “I thought your mother didn’t want you around me!”

Everyone, Severus included, laughed at that.

“Afraid you’ll be a Death Eater?” Evan crowed.

“Your time is coming, right?” Cassius asked Regulus. Muliciber looked on with envy, but Alecto only looked confused.

“I turn fifteen next week, so it’s still a year to go,” Regulus replied. “I don’t know how were gonna swing it, though, since it’s supposed to happen on my sixteenth birthday.”

“I’m sure your mother will make some excuse for you,” Evan said. “Dumbledore will believe any lie thrown at him.”

“By the way, Sev,” Cassius added, “I was sorry to hear about your Dad.”

Severus’ spine stiffened. “Thanks, Avery.” The words felt like stones in his mouth.

“How did it happen?” Cassius asked.

“What’s it to you?” Severus snapped.

“I was just curious is all,” Cassius replied meekly.

“Natural causes,” Severus added. “To answer your question. Very sudden.”

“How’s your mum?” Evan asked.

“She’s alright,” Severus said. “She’s handling it okay.”

“Can we change the subject?” Regulus asked, sensing Severus’ growing unease.

By then, Hogsmeade was in view—time to start the new school year. The gang of Slytherins quickly got into their school robes, retrieved their luggage from the racks overhead and got ready to go. They jostled their way down the jam-packed corridor, pushing a little to get past the gaggle of first and second year kids, past Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Up ahead, Severus caught sight of a girl with long red hair—Lily. He also noticed that she walked hand-in-hand with Potter, fingers interlaced. He frowned, pushing a Third Year Ravenclaw boy hard against the wall as he passed by.

“Watch it, Snape!” the boy shouted.

Severus didn’t reply, but Regulus did. “Piss off!” he shouted back, following close behind Severus.

“Big nose!” the boy shouted back.

The air outside felt crisp, refreshing, a relief from the staleness of the long train ride. One by one, carriages took new groups of students up to the school, pulled along invisibly by something—Severus was sure the carriages didn’t pull themselves along. As they waited for the next carriage to take them up the long road to the school, Mulciber, Evan, Cassius and Regulus stood around Severus like an entourage of vassals. Regulus told crude jokes, most of which Severus didn’t find remotely funny—but Evan and Cassius howled. The Carrows had gone off in a previous carriage, stuck with a bunch of Hufflepuff Third Years.

“Snape!”

Severus turned around at the sound of his name, mortified to see that James Potter was the one that spoke. Severus stayed put.

“What do you want, Potter?” he asked indignantly. Mulciber and Cassius glared at Potter, arms folded defiantly, as if their wide stance was a sign of impending doom to anyone who dared take on Severus.

Potter looked glumly at him, inching forward with some hesitation. “Listen, can I talk to you for a second?”

“What do you want, Potter?” Regulus asked sharply.

“Nothing from you, Black!” Potter shot back. He swallowed hard. “Look, man, Sirius told me about…well, he told me about your father.”

Severus suppressed his rage just then, narrowing his eyes at Potter. “And?” He moved towards Potter menacingly. “What? Are you going to tell me how sorry you are? Are you going to shower me with your simpering pity? I relish the event, Potter.”

Potter stepped back and sighed, frustrated—to Severus’ delight, he actually looked wounded. “You know, man, I was just going to offer some condolences, but if you’re such a tosser that you can’t even let someone be bloody nice to you, then hell with you. Lily was right about you all along.”

With that, Potter turned on his heel and returned to his friends. Severus stared back at him, knowing what Potter was now saying. _He’s such a bastard._ Sirius and Lily nodded. Lily glanced over Sirius’ shoulder at Severus and smirked. Then he saw her whisper something to the rest of them. _Even his mother doesn’t want him around._ The group laughed loud and long. Severus’ blood ran cold, and he quickly turned back to his own friends, shutting out the rest of the world.

* * * * *

The next morning, Professor Slughorn called all the Sixth Year Slytherins together to review their schedules and their NEWT classes. Evan only achieved four OWLs, and thus was not going to be in Potions any more. Cassius fared better, and though he was allowed to be in Potions, he would not be in Transfiguration. Finally, Slughorn got to Severus, beaming like a father.

“Everyone,” he said proudly, “I want you all to look at Mr. Snape here as a model. Twelve OWLs, and each of them an O! Spectacular, Mr. Snape! Just wonderful! You do us very proud here in Slytherin House. And always so modest, of course! You will be permitted to take any course you want, naturally. Congratulations on a job very well done.” He applauded.

Severus inclined his head slightly, but he did not crack a smile, though he wanted to. Of course, Slughorn was always free with the extravagant praise, but it was still heartening to hear someone speak well of him. He thought to ask Slughorn about Legilimency, but thought the better of it, not wanting anyone to know that he was even remotely interested in the subject—after all, how could you sneak into people’s minds if everyone knew you could? Where would the fun be? The surprise? No, Severus decided to keep this independent study to himself.

Classes were enormously easy to Severus this new term, which surprised him. He had heard so many horror stories about how difficult NEWT classes were, and how so many students nearly had nervous collapses from the intense stress. Severus looked on these new challenges as new chances to test his reserve, his strength, and more than anything, his powers. He strove to delve into magic’s intricate nuances, looking at it almost spiritually or even religiously. Instinctively, he knew that this was the fastest way to success. Only the most subtle, flexible, sophisticated uses of magic would impress the Dark Lord. That was the sort of wizard who would rise high in the ranks of the organisation, just as Bellatrix had.

Could it be that she was his new role model? In many ways, Severus strove to be like her, to have that all-consuming commitment to the Dark Lord and to the cause—he admired her focus and her drive, which made her seem like a glorious goddess in his eyes. There was no challenge that Bellatrix wouldn’t take for the sake of the Dark Lord, and there was nothing and no one she feared. If only he could shut off sentiment and regret and…old ties. Severus had seen Bellatrix on that first night of muggle-baiting, watched with grim fascination as she ran gleefully from the mansion she had just destroyed with her own wand, leaving the family inside to die. A little inner voice shrieked at him to stop—was it that boy’s voice? Was it the woman’s? Only a new rush of knowledge would suffice to silence these voices for good.

As September turned into October, bringing with it the gentle drifts of autumn, Severus spent nearly all his spare time in the Library, going over any and all books he could find on Legilimency and Occlumency. What fascinated him the most was the intricate ways of using Legilimency. It wasn’t just about reading the mind like a book—that was a fraudulent, muggle way of looking at the art. He found in his reading that Legilimency fell under the greater category of mind manipulating charms, such as Obliviating or implanting memories. Not only could one sneak into the victim’s mind, but one could also take the contents of that mind, twist them around, confound them, turned them upside down and ultimately use that person’s thoughts against them, to the point of insanity.

Severus smirked wickedly as he sat alone in the dark Library, back in his favourite corner which was lit by a single torch. There, he could drink black coffee, eat rich tea biscuits and plot. That corner had become his little oasis of peace where there were no Potters or Lilys or Mullcibers or Blacks. Just him, his books, his ideas, his intricate notes. He wrote about so many things in his cahiers, as well as starting his own marginalia campaign in his potions book, a volume he started to think was far inferior for someone with ambitions such as his. Unknown to Professor Slughorn, Severus started to adjust many of the potions in the books, not to change them but to improve them.

Since he was a Third Year, Severus had started writing different spells, mostly just experiments, usually involving Potions or Charms of one sort or another. Over the summer, for example, disappointed by the new house at Spinner’s End and even more disappointed by the gloomy view from his bedroom window, Severus created a charm so that whenever he looked out the window, he would see a green field of tall grasses, lacy willow trees, blue skies and sunshine. He also devised a way of being able to talk to another at full voice without anyone else hearing the conversation—after a few trials and errors, the word “muffliato” coupled with arc’d wand movement worked perfectly.

But some of Severus’ experiments weren’t quite so innocuous. In fact, he had worked on a certain spell for years that he hadn’t dared try out on anyone, even on Potter. The spell, which he called “Sectumsempra,” was the product of a particularly violent night at home, with the eleven year-old Severus winding up at the emergency room, battered and bruised and bloodied worse than ever. He had just gotten his Hogwarts letter, which had prompted a furious and mortified Tobias to get wildly drunk and lay into his son viciously. It was the first night that Severus felt ashamed of being a wizard, but it was also the first night that he felt a profound hatred of muggles. Eileen never reported the attack to the police, fearing that they might discover the magical world. It was a moment Severus never forgot.

Since then, Severus had worked hard to fill his mind with the darkest spells he dared study, but he also made the mistake of telling too much to Lily, back when they were friends, that is. He still rebuked himself for saying so much, for scaring her like that. After Lily had told him off in June, Severus swore never again to be so transparent about anything, no matter what. He would tell people a bare minimum about himself, if at all, and he would guard his privacy and his mind as jealously as the Gringott’s goblins guarded wizard gold.

So it didn’t help things much when Severus ran into Lily in late November, both of them carrying armloads of books out of the library. Lily, a bit overwhelmed by the tipping tower of tomes in her arms, stumbled a little, nearly crashing into Severus. Two of her books fell to the stone floor with a slap—two of his fell, too.

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, stooping down to grab her books. Realising it was Severus she had just bumped, Lily’s face reddened.

“Long time no see,” Severus replied, setting down his own pile of books to scoop up both hers and his.

“Yeah,” she replied uncomfortably. Taking her books from his hand, she spotted some of the titles he held. “ _Ancient Poisons of East Asia_? What’s that all about, Sev?”

“Ancient poison of East Asia,” he replied simply. “And will you tell that to your friends, too, or is it only personal details you gossip to them about?”

“I didn’t say a word to James,” Lily said defencively. “Sirius did! He heard it from his brother, so maybe you should be yelling at Regulus, not at me!”

“I’m sure they had a nice laugh over it, too,” Severus grumbled bitterly. “I’d rather not be fodder for their crass jokes.”

“They didn’t laugh, Sev. James felt awful about it. Seriously!”

Severus raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so is that what it takes for him to be decent to a person? Ones parent has to die unexpectedly?”

Lily tightened her grip on her books. “You’re impossible,” she said, frustrated, turning to walk away.

“Hang on, Lily,” Severus pleaded. “Seriously, you’re right. Look, I just had a long day. I’ve been a real bear all day long.”

“Just today?”

“Very funny.” He paused. “I…I miss you. I miss our talks.”

“I’ve missed you for years,” she replied, almost smiling. “Where have you been?”

“Right here. Same as always.”

“Not the same. Not nearly the same,” she said. “You haven’t been yourself since your Third Year here, when you got friendly with Avery and Mulciber and those other apes.”

“Apes are cleverer,” Severus said wryly.

“Then why hang around them?” Lily insisted.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replied harshly. “You made that abundantly clear in June. I’m tired of having to explain myself to people.”

“That’s because you…”

“Look, just stop, alright?” he snapped.

Lily stepped back, affronted. She gave him a brief kiss on the cheek, then walked off in a huff, leaving him bewildered, wishing he could run after her and explain. He wanted to talk more to her, reveal his whole self to her, as he had done so often in the past, when they were so much younger. But again, that desire for privacy and discretion cropped up again, firing his resolve once more. 

Severus tightened his grip on his books, straightened his posture and swept back to Slytherin House.


	11. The Vampire Stone and the Death Eater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Three Broomsticks was already jam-packed with customers, including many students, when Severus, Regulus, Cassius and Evan entered. Severus looked around a little desperately at first, but the moment he spotted Bellatrix sitting alone in a back corner, sipping firewhiskey, he sighed a breath of relief. Bellatrix smirked at the sight of him and licked her lips seductively. She looked into his eyes, and for the first time, Severus used Occlumency against her. She grinned._
> 
> _“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun, Sev,” she said, tracing his angular jawline with the tip of her long finger. She leaned forward and kissed his mouth hungrily, then his neck and shoulders, taking him a bit by surprise. Regulus and the others sat back and watched the spectacle with shocked amusement. Bellatrix stood up._
> 
> _“Well, shall we?” she asked Severus, holding out her hand._

There were no Christmas presents this year, for the first time. Usually, even though the Snapes never had much money, Eileen made sure that Severus got at least two or three little things—a nice quill, a pair of shoes, something. She could never afford a broomstick for him or a full set of robes or anything like that, and Tobias always complained that his money was going to support “a freakish load of tosh.”

Severus masked his disappointment that she hadn’t gotten him a single present, though he knew why. It had nothing to do with economics—he was sure of that. She was punishing him, cutting him off, severing emotional ties because after these two weeks at home, he would no longer be welcome at Spinner’s End. All in all, Christmas at home had become a gloomy affair, though Severus wished it wouldn’t be. What confounded him was that he knew there was no way he could make her see his strategy, no more than he could convince Lily or probably Professor Dumbledore.

But in the end of it all, he thought as he finished a solitary dinner in the darkened kitchen, they would all see, and they would finally understand. So let her go off to celebrate the day with the Harpes, Severus thought bitterly. With Mr. Harpe as a Squib and Mrs. Harpe a muggle, these were not the sort that he could afford to be around, at least for now. Perhaps in future, after he had made his fortunes and settled his mother on some grade estate in Gloustershire. But until then, Severus resolved only to associate with witches and wizards, and preferably with purebloods.

This meant, of course, that he could not permit himself to socialise any longer with Lily, a thought that pained him more than he was willing to admit. After all, they had been almost friendly recently…almost. It wasn’t like before when they shared all their secrets and ideas and hopes and dreams together. That was the stuff of childhood, of sugar fantasy lost in the dark past. In truth, he really did miss her. The lost of her friendship caused him physical pain at times, more deeply than even his mother’s rejection. For Severus, Lily had been his clarity, a sort of inner strength that he had thrived on for a long time—perhaps too long. It was time for him to stand on his own, to make his own way, and if that didn’t include Lily, then so be it.

One day she would understand. One day she would forgive him.

* * * * *

One of Severus’ favourite things about being a Sixth Year was that he found himself in an in-between stage, a sort of blissful limbo where he was done with the stress of OWL exams but was too far away from NEWT stress or career choices. Regulus had always told Severus that the Dark Lord didn’t care two shakes about NEWT grades—all he wanted was loyalty and dedicated service. Still, Severus felt a drive to excel, just as he had with his OWL grades—all O’s. He had certain expectations of himself, certain requirements that included top grades and hard hours of fruitful study.

This year of relative freedom gave Severus the time and space to fill his mind and perfect his magic to a degree far beyond that of his peers or even some of his teachers. In fact, his genius at the most delicate, most subtle forms of magic had become well-known throughout the school. Though Severus still dabbled in dark magic, he also developed in other forms of magic, many of which were obscure but powerful. One area he had continued to study and excel in was Legilimency and Occlumency. He had successfully penetrated Cassius Avery’s mind three times now, giving him ample information that he could use to manipulate his fellow Slytherin.

This could be fun.

As he grew in these abilities, Severus started to fancy himself as something of a spy, someone gifted and cunning and clever enough to find out deep, dark secrets about those around him. He paused to think about how satisfying it would be to discover some nasty bit of information about Potter or Sirius Black, something he could broadcast around the school by way of mental manipulation charms.

But for now, all that would wait. 

No sooner had Severus arrived back at Hogwarts for the second term, his seventeenth birthday arrived, too. Professor Slughorn threw a huge party in Severus’ honor Saturday evening, inviting everyone from Slytherin, as well as some of his well-connected friends from the magical community, including husband and wife vampires and a hooded wizard who claimed to be in the dragon blood trade. There were no Death Eaters at the party, no one from the organisation. In fact, besides his housemates, Severus didn’t recognise or know anyone else at the party, except for Professor Dumbledore, of course.

“Happy seventeenth, Severus,” Dumbledore said enthusiastically. He presented Severus with a small, green box tied with silver twine. “Well, tomorrow, anyway.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Severus replied, astonished and a little suspicious. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Well, turning seventeen is very important,” Dumbledore replied. “You’re an adult now, a man. I think you will find this gift to be most helpful in your life.”

Severus eyed him carefully. “Is this to do with what you talked to my mother about?” he asked, quickly rebuking himself for being so blunt.

Dumbledore didn’t seem to be phased in the least, which troubled Severus intensely. “No, Severus. That is for another day.”

Inside the fragrant cedar box, resting on a little white satin pillow, was a very shiny black stone, very heavy.

Dumbledore grinned. “Go on, hold it. Put it in your hand.”

As Regulus peered over Severus’ shoulder, Severus tipped the box, letting the stone roll into the palm of his hand. It felt ice cold to the touch, but he also noticed that it had a certain energy to it that radiated through his hand and up his arm.

“What is it?” he asked.

Dumbledore chuckled. “I’d like you to guess, because I suspect you know what this is.”

“Is it a bezoar?” Regulus asked, reaching out to poke the stone with his finger. Severus retracted his hand.

“No, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore replied. “It is not a bezoar. Wrong colour. Not a bad answer, though.”

Severus thought for a moment, and then, as he pressed the stone between his middle finger and his thumb, a light flashed before his eyes, and suddenly, he felt as if his veins were charged with wild electricity.

“Oh my gods,” Severus whispered. “This is a Vampire Stone, right? These are priceless!”

“That couple over there,” Dumbledore said, indicating the vampires, “Mr. and Mrs. Hyde, brought it over from…well, they didn’t exactly tell me where they acquired it. It’s all quite legal, though it is extremely rare.”

“But why would you give it to me?” Severus asked, bewildered.

“What does it do?” Regulus asked, entranced by the stone.

“Severus?” Dumbledore replied, gesturing for him to answer the question.

“It sort of…sucks in all the magic around you…sort of. I mean, it allows you to take in the magical energy around you in order to intensify your own powers.” Severus paused. “It’s dipped in vampire blood, right?”

“The core is a single drop of vampire blood,” Dumbledore answered.

But Severus remained bewildered. Surely someone as intuitive as Albus Dumbledore would know better than to give a stone like this to a budding Death Eater. Had he run mad? Lost his grip on reality?

“You look troubled, Severus,” Dumbledore said.

“This is more than generous, Professor,” Severus admitted. “I just don’t know why you’re giving it to me instead of someone like Potter or Lily Evans or Remus Lupin. Or keep it for yourself.”

“I believe that one day, this stone will become very necessary for you, Severus. Perhaps not now, but there will come a time when you will need this stone.”

The rest of the night, Severus could think of nothing other than that strange response. What did Dumbledore mean? Didn’t the fool know that Severus could very well use this to channel the more dangerous dark magic? Whose side was Dumbledore on, anyway? Later that night, Severus sat by the window overlooking the grounds, staring intently at the stone. He remembered what Dumbledore had said to his mother over the summer, that some mysterious “they” needed him, wanted him and his service. But for what, if not for the Dark Lord?

* * * * *

The following day, Severus’ actual birthday, Regulus, Cassius, Evan and Mulciber crashed into the dorm room banging pots and pans together, making a horrible racket as they shouted in unison: “GET YOUR SKINNY ARSE OUT OF BED, SNAPE!!!”

Laughing wildly, Regulus tore the duvet off the bed while Cassius and Evan started hitting Severus in the head and body with pillows from the other bed. Severus grabbed his own pillow and started hitting them back until all five of them, shrieking and cackling, were engulfed in a massive pillow fight. Soon, they were joined by other Slytherin boys, and after a few minutes, even Professor Slughorn got in on the fun.

As the fight finally stopped, Regulus dashed out of the room, returning with a huge wrapped box, wrapped in stunning blue paper and tied with blood red ribbon.

“From me,” he said, proudly presenting Severus with the gift.

“Open it, asshole!” Mulciber exclaimed.

Severus flipped the finger at Mulciber, then tore into the present. Everyone gasped as Severus pulled the gift from the wrappings.

“Wow,” Cassius murmured.

“That is amazing,” Evan said.

“Does Lucius know?” Mulciber asked. Regulus socked him in the arm.

“Gods, Black, have you run mad?” Severus said, overwhelmed. 

“Lucius has one just like it—well, his is a different material. I figured that if you were going to start carrying a staff like this around, it should be unique, not like someone else’s.”

Severus ran his hands up and down the elegant staff, feeling every grain of the sleek, black wood under his fingertips. “It’s ebony, correct?”

“Bella said ebony would work well with your wand,” Regulus said. “See, if you take off the top of the staff like that, you can stick your wand in it. Pretty hip, don’t you think?”

Evan laughed. “You should carry it around school, Sev! Whack Potter with it!”

“Jab him in the eye with it!” Cassius echoed.

“And get Black, too!” Mulciber added. But then he reddened. “No offense, Reg.”

But Regulus only laughed. “I’ll jab the blood-traitor first!”

“Thank you, Regulus,” Severus said. “This is beautiful, really.”

Regulus smiled. “Well, you deserve it. I mean, you’re going to lead us all one day…I mean, under the Dark Lord and all.” He blushed.

Severus laughed. “That’s right, Regulus. I’ll be number fucking one.”

This was not the end of birthday presents for Severus Snape. The following weekend, a Hogsmeade weekend, brought new, more thrilling prospects for the young, newly adult wizard. The day was particularly cold, and the snow was especially deep, yet Severus found that he could make the long walk to town as quickly as if the road were bare and dry. In fact, Regulus and the others had something of a hard time keeping up with him. With the Vampire Stone in his pocket and Regulus’ staff in hand, Severus felt especially empowered, supremely focused as he strode in long steps towards Hogsmeade.

He knew what was waiting for him, or rather, who.

Perhaps that was his motivation, that rare taste of sensuality so frequently denied him for so many reasons. She was different, though. She was not offended by his nose or his hair or his poverty. She saw him for his mind, his power, his potential. So what if she was married? Rodolphus Lestrange, after all, was a scary bit of wizard, but he was mostly an oaf. Severus knew he could take on Lestrange in any battle, in any condition or situation. Taking his wife, therefore, seemed a good way to show just who had power and who did not.

What troubled Severus a little was that Bellatrix insisted on meeting him at the Three Broomsticks, rather than at the more discreet Hogshead Inn. The Three Broomsticks was a very popular spot for students and professors alike, so that being seen with a notorious Death Eater, as well as getting warm and cozy with her, was a calculated risk—surely this would get straight back to Dumbledore, who had just been so generous and so kind with that priceless gift. Then again, Severus thought as he walked along, ignoring Regulus’ litany of insults against Gryffindors, he didn’t owe Dumbledore anything. He didn’t ask for such an extravagant gift, and what’s more, Dumbledore was still holding out on him with that allegedly lethal secret.

Hell with him.

The Three Broomsticks was already jam-packed with customers, including many students, when Severus, Regulus, Cassius and Evan entered. Severus looked around a little desperately at first, but the moment he spotted Bellatrix sitting alone in a back corner, sipping firewhiskey, he sighed a breath of relief. Bellatrix smirked at the sight of him and licked her lips seductively.

“Well, I see you’ve brought a whole party,” she said smoothly, “though I’ll have to ask you, Regulus, to wait for us down here. Unlike your mother, I don’t do cousins.”

Regulus stuck out his tongue at her and took a drink from her whiskey glass, which she quickly snatched back.

Bellatrix looked kittenishly at the other boys at the table. “Surely not all of you have turned seventeen this week?”

Severus laughed. “They wish.”

She looked into his eyes, and for the first time, Severus used Occlumency against her. She grinned. “Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun, Sev,” she said, tracing his angular jawline with the tip of her long finger. She leaned forward and kissed his mouth hungrily, then his neck and shoulders, taking him a bit by surprise. Regulus and the others sat back and watched the spectacle with shocked amusement. Bellatrix stood up.

“Well, shall we?” she asked Severus, holding out her hand.

Severus stood up, noticing that more than a few started at them both, a mixture of disgust and mirth on their blank faces. He spotted Lily and Alice Bones at a far distance, which made him clench his jaw with sudden fury. But instead of caving in and running out of the Three Broomsticks in embarrassment, Severus turned to Bellatrix, grabbed her around the waist and returned the kiss, a mad, passionate, slightly clumsy kiss that made Bellatrix moan aloud for all to hear.

Together, hand in hand, they dashed up the stairs, straight for the room she had already reserved for them. No sooner had she slammed the door and locked it, she tore off her clothes, then, using her wand, tore off his. They fused together as one, writhing and scratching and undulating, finally making it to the bed, where they continued their vicious intercourse in every conceivable way, in every possible position, shrieking and groaning and moaning so loudly they were sure they could be head all the way to Hogwarts. After a very long time, they both lay back on the bed, exhausted, scratched up, aching, laughing.

What confounded Severus was Bellatrix’s skin. Just as before, when she kissed him at the Black mansion, her entire body felt ice cold, her skin almost rigid, even reptilian. Her mouth was cold, too, her tongue like ice, even in the fierce heat of intense lovemaking.

“I think I pulled a muscle,” Bellatrix said after a long silence. “I don’t think I’ll be walking right for a week.”

They both laughed.

“I’m your first, right?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Yeah.”

“That’s nice,” she said. “I’m glad I was your first. I was right about you, you know.”

“What about?”

“Remember? When we first met at the Rack and Noose? I said that I bet you’re a tiger in the sack. I think the scratches you gave me prove that.”

They laughed again.

“You nearly bit my ear off,” he said.

“Bad habit.” She stoked his arm and sighed. “I can’t wait for you to join the organisation. I think the Dark Lord is going to be very pleased with you. You have true passion, Severus, real drive, palpable power. You’re like a drug.”

How else could he respond but to laugh? Why didn’t Lily talk to him like that? Why didn’t she see what Bellatrix saw? It made no sense. He turned to Bellatrix and grinned.

“Want another dose?”

* * * * *

He was terribly late, over an hour late in fact. Severus’ first thought was to apparate directly to the gates of Hogwarts, but balked, needing time to walk and think and make sense of what had just happened to him. It wasn’t just that he had lost his virginity that snowy afternoon, but that he had lost it to Bellatrix Lestrange, Death Eater, sadist, confidante and loyal servant of the Dark Lord Voldemort. This was no ordinary case of a young man getting into trouble with a girl. Severus ran over in his mind the inevitable conversation he would have with Dumbledore, but each time he did, he had no feasible response that he knew would be acceptable to the old man.

He’d just have to wing it, when the time came for that conversation. Of course, it was likely that Dumbledore would wait at least a few days before confronting Severus about the incident, wanting all the facts before he threw about ugly accusations of ingratitude and recklessness.

So when a surprisingly irate and furious Dumbledore met Severus at the gates of Hogwarts, Severus’ mind went completely blank.


	12. The Stag and the Whomping Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everyone at the school knew all too well that you didn’t go anywhere near the Whomping Willow—that is, unless you wanted to get your head smashed. That was the last thing Severus wanted and suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea to go back inside and forget about his little investigation. So it came as an uncomfortable surprise to him when, one sunny afternoon, Sirius Black approached him, grinning from ear to ear._

He hadn’t been in the Headmaster’s office since James Potter dangled him over the grounds last spring. Frankly, Severus didn’t miss the place whatsoever. Normally, when students were summoned to the Head’s office it was never for a good reason, and this time was no different. Severus strode in proudly, however, refusing to look even remotely contrite. Briefly distracted by the silver, whirring machines that littered every shelf and spare surface of the grand office, Severus stood before Dumbledore’s massive desk awaiting the inevitable tongue-lashing.

“Sit,” Dumbledore ordered. His hands were rigid with rare fury, but Severus remained defiant. When he didn’t sit down promptly as ordered, Dumbledore pointed a finger at him—a rush of energy forced Severus to stumble back, landing awkwardly in the hard chair right behind him. He quickly sat up and straightened his robes.

“You wish to see me, Headmaster?” Severus asked silkily.

Dumbledore paced up and down furiously behind the desk, not responding.

“Sir?” Severus said. He worried. Just how much trouble was he in? Should he be in any trouble? Severus wondered.

“Don’t speak!” Dumbledore snapped.

“But…”

“Silence! I am doing my very best to control myself so that I don’t do something I will regret!”

A little cowed, Severus chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering what Dumbledore would do next. He didn’t dare attempt Legilimency at this point. Still, he sat with shoulders back and spine erect, fighting hard to maintain his insolence. He also used Occlumency, to keep the Headmaster out of his pleasant thoughts of his afternoon at the Three Broomsticks.

“For the rest of this term, at the very least, Mr. Snape, you will not step a toe off these grounds,” Dumbledore said firmly. “Is that clear?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster, but said nothing, as if to dare the old man to say more.

“Well, Mr. Snape? Is that clear?” Dumbledore repeated impatiently.

“Quite. Is that all?” Severus held his head high, eyes still narrowed dangerously.

“There are many things I wish to say to you, Mr. Snape, but I won’t insult your intelligence. You seem to have done that on your own with your reckless actions today. So yes, that is all. For now.”

Slightly rattled but outwardly strong, Severus stood up grandly. “Good evening, then, sir,” he said stiffly.

As he turned to go, Dumbledore stopped him. “One more thing, Severus,” he added.

Severus stopped, turning to face him. “Sir?”

“Any repetition of this will result in dire consequences for you, and I don’t just mean expulsion,” Dumbledore explained.

Severus placed his hands on his hips and laughed haughtily. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise,” Dumbledore replied, hands on his own hips. “You are excused.”

Severus turned on his heel and swept from the room, silently muttering obscenities to himself. He marched almost blindly down the corridor, intending to go to the Great Hall for dinner, and yet, the furor in Dumbledore’s voice haunted him, distracted his steps so that he ended up standing alone in a darkened stairwell, running the scene through his racing mind. He had never seen the Headmaster like this before, and Severus didn’t know how to interpret it at all. Normally, Dumbledore was gentle, kind and wise, not ravenously angry. Since when did the old man ever threaten a student? What was this all about?

He knew, of course, that what he had done and how he had behaved at the Three Broomsticks was extremely shocking and overtly rebellious. Severus knew he had made a definite statement to the whole world, especially when he had grabbed Bellatrix and kissed her so wildly in front of everyone. He knew this dalliance with fire would come back to him—he wanted it that way, or so he told himself. Now faced with the brunt of Dumbledore’s fury, Severus worried a little about how the rest of the school would view him.

Thus, it became even more important to him to maintain that external look of pride that he had displayed in Dumbledore’s office. Even a slight lowering of his chin or a minute drooping of his shoulders would certainly be interpreted as guilt or regret or even shame. Severus didn’t want to feel guilty about what he had done, and he certainly didn’t want to feel shamed—he refused to feel anything other than a sense of accomplishment, of independence. In fact, he told himself as he finally neared the Great Hall, he wanted to conduct himself in a way that would make people think that he wanted to do it all over again, on an even grander scale.

A small voice itched at his heart, calling out to him with harsh, pleading words. Those words, however, were silenced by the memory of Bellatrix, of that long, languid afternoon in each other’s arms, so entirely uninhibited together. She was the very core of the organisation, its sensual ideal, deepening his lust all the more. There had to be a way out.

As Severus approached the Slytherin table, still entrenched in thought, every Sixth and Seventh year boy, plus Regulus, stood up and cheered loudly, hooting, wolf-whistling, banging their fists on the table. It was exactly what Severus wanted…and needed—their approval strengthened his resolve more firmly. He grinned and took his seat in their midst. Regulus clapped him on the back, and Evan reached across to shake his hand.

“So come on, Snape, tell us all the dirty details!” Regulus crowed. Everyone laughed.

“You want to know the dirty details about your own cousin?” Severus asked with mirth. “Please, Regulus, control yourself.”

Regulus only laughed. “Oh come on, Sev, don’t be so evasive! I’ve heard others talk about her, so why not you?”

“How was it?” Evan asked eagerly.

“How was she?” Cassius added.

“Gentlemen, I don’t kiss and tell,” Severus said grandly.

Regulus laughed again. “Gentlemen?” he crowed. “You mean you don’t shag and tell!”

Severus reddened slightly, but only rolled his eyes diffidently.

Regulus elbowed him in the ribs. “I bet neither of you’ll walk right for a few days! We could hear you outside! Evan was sure you were doing the Cruciatus on her!”

Everyone laughed. Cassius grinned secretively, then reached into his robes and pulled out a white handkerchief, gingerly unwrapping whatever he had stowed inside. Regulus looked on, shaking with laughter, and when Cassius produced a small handful of cherries, the rest of the group exploded in hysterics.

“Wanna pop another one, Sev?” Cassius asked wickedly.

Severus smirked. “Oh, I think that one was popped a long time ago, but thanks all the same, Avery.” He took a cherry and tossed it in his mouth. 

Across the hall, Severus noticed Lily at the Gryffindor table, whispering and throwing him sharp looks of disgust—the rest of them behaved the same, or rather, most of them behaved the same. That ratty little Peter Pettigrew openly stared at Severus, but seemed more quixotic than the others. By total contrast, Sirius Black looked murderous, as if he wanted to leap across the house tables to strangle Severus personally. Severus glared back at the lot of them, returning his attention to his friends.

“So did you get busted for being late?” Evan asked.

Severus took in a deep breath. “I’m gated, actually,” he said darkly, barely masking his indignation and disappointment.

“Gated?” Regulus exclaimed. “Why? For how long?”

“For the rest of the term, actually,” Severus replied coolly. He popped another cherry into his mouth.

“So wait, does that mean you can’t leave any more?” Evan asked.

“Not a toe, to quote Dumbledore.”

“No Hogsmeade even?” Evan persisted.

“Especially not Hogsmeade,” Severus replied impatiently.

Regulus furrowed his brow. “Just because you had sex? That stupid hypocrite! Lots of students here have sex and they’re not gated!”

Severus scowled. “The didn’t have sex with a Death Eater.” But then he grinned. “It was worth it.”

Regulus laughed and threw a cherry at him, but the others didn’t laugh at all.

* * * * *

There had to be a way out. He was sure of it. No one would prevent Severus Snape from doing exactly what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was another long afternoon with Bellatrix Lestrange. It seemed critical to him that this happen again—she was far too important not to take her at least once more. Regulus’ point came back to him, making Severus all the angrier. Regulus was right—lots of the students had sex, or at least some did. Yet they weren’t gated or punished. So why him? Why now? Somehow, Severus knew this was connected to that secret conversation with Dumbledore, but until he knew the truth of this allegedly fatal piece of information, he could only guess.

Naturally, Severus knew all about the various passages out of the castle, but to his endless frustration, he also found that every time he tried to escape, his magic failed him.

“I think he cursed me or something,” he told Regulus one evening at dinner. “I mean no matter what I do, whenever I try to use any of those passages which seems to work just fine for the rest of the damn world, I can’t get through!”

“Maybe you’re not using the right counterjinx or the right spell,” Regulus suggested. “Maybe you need a potion or something, only you don’t know which one or how to make it.”

That suggestion didn’t sit well with Severus. After all, he was the school genius, the magical prodigy who knew more magic as a First Year than all the Third Years combined. It didn’t seem possible that he could actually be barred from opening a simple passageway out of the castle. Even the dullest Hufflepuff could get through, but why not him? Severus saw quickly that he had to discover the nature of this curse on him, or the charm or jinx Dumbledore had placed on him so that he could develop a countercurse and get back to Hogsmeade and back to Bellatrix Lestrange.

Night after night, he sat by his window overlooking the grounds, thinking and writing potential spells, struggling every which way to find a way out of the bonds Dumbledore had magically placed on him. And then he saw a deer. It wasn’t just an ordinary deer, but a huge, giant stag, elegant and almost ethereal, striding majestically across the grounds, off into the far distance. Glancing up at the full moon, Severus leaned his head against the windowpane and sighed. That’s when he spotted a magnificent black dog—actually, he heard it first, barking madly as if it were communicating with the deer in some strange way. The dog was huge, much like the legendary Grim. He hoped it wasn’t a bad omen or anything.

He wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he thought about it, Severus realised that had in fact, seen the stag before. In fact, now that he thought even more, it was on a night like this, the night of the full moon. Why would a stag and a dog roam the grounds on the night of the full moon? And how long had this been going on? The thought distracted him, troubled him deeply. His first thought was to ask around, to discover whether anyone else had seen these animals around the grounds—but no, he wouldn’t. This was a new mystery he wanted to unravel himself. Besides, now that he was trapped within the thick, high walls of the school, he had little else to do.

The following month, therefore, when the full moon rose, Severus decided to investigate. He quietly stole out of Slytherin House, moving batlike through the corridors and out a small, wooden door that opened onto a long, stone arcade which circled around and ended up at a long, hilly stretch of grass. Silently, looking around to be sure he wasn’t seen, Severus made a dash across the grass, taking refuge behind a thick privet. He waited, taking in the magical energy of the cool night air that lapped at his robes in gentle drifts.

Was that a footstep? Was it a teacher? A student? Cautiously, Severus took a deep breath and poked his head around the side of the privet, glancing carefully every which way to find the source of the noise. His heart pounded in his chest and his skin suddenly felt cold and clammy from nerves. Suddenly, in a flash, the stag was nearly upon him, rushing towards him full force as if to attack an intruder. Severus threw himself back against the privet, desperate to stay out of sight, not knowing what the stag would do next. And then he heard the dog barking, making the stag scuttle off in a soft flourish.

It took Severus a moment to catch his breath, but when he did, he saw that the dog and the stag were barreling up one hill and down the next. Severus sprinted after them at a cautious distance, jumping deftly over a rat as he followed their tracks. But at the bottom of the next hill, just beyond the clearing, Severus skidded to a halt—the Whomping Willow.

“Shit,” he whispered, newly frustrated.

Everyone at the school knew all too well that you didn’t go anywhere near the Whomping Willow—that is, unless you wanted to get your head smashed. That was the last thing Severus wanted and suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea to go back inside and forget about his little investigation—after all, there was no guarantee that these animals would lead him anywhere other than the Forbidden Forest, which was rife with werewolves, especially on a night like this. He suddenly felt a chill rush through him, which he took as a signal to go to bed and think about other things, such as where he would live and how he would survive during the summer, now that his mother had chucked him out. That was a mystery in itself.

For the next few weeks, Severus strove to set aside all thoughts of the stag and the dog, figuring that this sort of distraction would only work against him in the long run. He still had so much he wanted to accomplish and so many spells he wanted to master and to create—the Vampire Stone became an invaluable source of inspiration during that time, and in fact, Severus had to admit to himself that perhaps being gated was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. When else would he ever have the time or luxury to explore magic into even greater depths? All the sex in the world with Bellatrix or with any woman couldn’t replace what he wanted and needed and lusted for through magic. Bellatrix would just have to wait.

So it came as an uncomfortable surprise to him when, one sunny afternoon, Sirius Black approached him, grinning from ear to ear. Severus had spent most of the day, a Hogsmeade day, in the library, looking up new uses of belladonna and monks hood. His cahier was nearly filled with intricate notes, and as Severus reached into his schoolbag to grab a new bottle of ink, he saw a pair of legs standing before him. Long legs, well dressed legs, shoes impeccable, with one scuff mark on the right toe. Severus looked up, expecting to see Regulus. Finding Sirius at the top end of those legs brought Severus no end of disappointment.

“May I help you, Black?” he asked sourly. “Perhaps I could interest you in the Cruciatus curse?”

Sirius smirked, pushing his locks of black hair off his handsome face. “You wish, Snape. You know, Snivellus, if you’re going to shag Death Eaters, my little brother is a lot nicer than my cousin.”

“True. Your brother, however, is sadly male,” Severus replied tartly. “I wouldn’t know what to do with him.”

“Just ask your friend Malfoy.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, then sighed. “You haven’t answered my first question, Black.”

“I heard you got gated,” he replied. “Regulus told me. Actually, I overheard him broadcasting it to some of your…uh…associates.”

“He’s a gossipy little bitch, isn’t he?” Severus replied casually. “Bad luck for you. You and Potter won’t be able to hang me upside down before the whole town. Sorry.”

Sirius looked down. He bit his lip. “Say, Sniv…er…Severus, look, James and I feel a little bad about that.”

Severus’ eyes widened. “A little? Don’t strain yourself. I wouldn’t want you to become too moral. You don’t have the talent.”

Sirius sat down next to him, getting close enough to whisper in his ear. “Look, there is a way out of here, but it’s a little dodgy.”

Severus leaned back, affronted. “Leave me alone, Black. I’m not in the mood.”

“Tomorrow night is the full moon,” Sirius whispered. “The sky is going to be really clear, and all you have to do is go through the passage under the Whomping Willow.”

Severus dropped his book with a loud bang, making everyone turn around, annoyed and offended.

Now he leaned forward to whisper back. “What are you trying to do, Black, kill me?”

“We do it all the time! It’s easy!”

“You’re crazier than your crazy brother!”

“No, seriously! Come with us tomorrow night! We’ll show you! Honestly, Severus, it’s the least we can do after we sort of humiliated you last year. Come on! We want to make it up to you. It’ll be fun!”

For a frantic five seconds, Severus had no idea how to respond to such an offer. This was a chance to get out, and if it was as easy as Sirius said it was, then he could use that exit any time he wanted. That was a plus. But the minus side was that it meant that, one, he had to trust that Sirius was telling the truth, and two, that he would have to endure an unspecified amount of time in the presence of those he hated more than anyone. Was it worth it?


	13. Indebted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He glanced up to the second floor of the house to see Sirius Black doubled over in hysterics, but then, in a flash, Potter was no longer Potter but…_

“Sev!”

Mmm.

“Hey, Sev!”

Poke poke. Then a shove. Severus flinched awake, furious.

“What the hell are you doing, Regulus?” he snapped, snarling at a very distressed Regulus. Actually, Regulus looked deeply troubled, almost beside himself for some reason unknowable to Severus.

“I have to talk to you!”

Severus fumbled for his watch. “Shit, Regulus, it’s three in the fucking morning! Can’t this wait?”

Regulus sat on the edge of Severus’ bed, looking frantically around at the rest of the slumbering Slytherin boys in the dorm room. “What were you doing with my brother?” he asked in a low but surprisingly accusatory whisper.

Severus rubbed his forehead. “Plotting your murder.”

“Get real,” Regulus shot back, angry.

“Go back to your fucking room, Black!” someone shouted from another bed. The rest of the boys groaned in assent. Someone threw a pillow in Regulus’ direction but it landed with a crash against a vase near the window.

“Let’s go to the common room, yeah?” Regulus said to Severus, tugging on the sleeve of his nightshirt.

Severus jerked his arm away. “Go to bed, Regulus!” he seethed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

“Now!”

“Tomorrow!”

“Now!”

“Severus, go talk to the bitch!” Mulciber grunted from the next bed. “If you don’t, I’ll do an Unforgivable on his arse!”

Incensed, Severus ripped off the duvet, sprung out of bed and stormed out of the room, Regulus in tow, marching like a Spartan to the common room. He threw himself into a chair and glared at Regulus.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he growled. “What do you care what I talked to your brother about?”

Regulus knelt at Severus’ feet, leaning close so that his voice couldn’t be heard by anyone outside the common room. “Look, man, I’m sorry, alright. You freaked me out by talking to him at all. I thought you hated him!”

“I do hate him. That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to speak to him. If you recall, he and I were friends at one time, even if it was our first year here.”

“What did he want?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Regulus gripped the arms of Severus’ chair tightly. “What did he want?” he insisted.

“Cut it out, Regulus. You’re acting like a child!”

“Did he say something about me?”

Severus could only shake his head, incredulous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Black.”

Regulus’ eyes looked wild, unfocused. “He’s been stalking me, for two weeks now! He keeps trying to talk me out of joining the organisation.”

“Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought,” Severus replied, trying to seem a bit paternal. It was clear to him that his friend was extremely upset by all this.

“So he wasn’t trying to get you to talk to me?”

Severus laughed. “Me? Your brother may be an idiot prat but he’s not stupid. Why would I want to dissuade you anyway?”

Regulus loosened his grip on the chair and sat back on the floor, cross-legged. He sniffled. “We had a huge fight yesterday. I almost hit him.”

“Over the organisation?”

Regulus nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “He won’t let up about it! I keep telling him to piss off, but he won’t! I hate him!”

“He thinks he’s looking out for you, but he doesn’t get it! He’s an idiot!”

Regulus nodded. “I know.”

“Regulus, you’re doing an incredible thing by entering so early. A lot of people would love to be in your position, myself included. If you think I would want to take that from you, you’re mistaken.”

Regulus didn’t say anything for a moment—he scratched at a scab on his shin, his mind busy and still troubled. Severus feared what his friend might say in that moment, but then Regulus smiled, taking all Severus’ doubts away.

“You’re a good friend,” Regulus said, squirming around to kneel again. He leaned close to Severus—a bit too close for Severus’ liking. “I got a note from Bella a while ago. She knows about your…difficulty. Anyway, she wanted me to give you something, just to remember her by. This is from Bella.”

But before he could lay hands on Severus’ shoulders, Severus shoved him back, furious.

“I already told you, Regulus!” he snapped. “I’m not interested!”

Regulus chuckled. “Oh come on, Sev, it’s from Bella! I swear!”

“I don’t need to be snogged by a proxy,” he retorted. “I prefer the original if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Apparently I do, if you recall.”

“Hey, man, it’s okay,” Regulus replied, a bit dejected. “She just wanted to make sure you got properly kissed from time to time, until she can do it herself.”

Severus laughed. “You’re impossible,” he said. “I can see why you drive Sirius crazy.”

Regulus stood up and stretched his back and his arms. “Well, maybe one day you’ll change your mind. Celibacy isn’t good for someone your age. It’s not natural.”

“Yeah, well don’t get your hopes up, Black.”

Regulus turned to return to the boys’ dorm, but stopped. “What did you talk to Sirius about, anyway?”

“The Whomping Willow.”

Regulus scowled. “Sounds like he’s trying to kill you.”

* * * * *

Sirius promised to meet Severus at midnight, just at the bottom of the hill near the Whomping Willow. As skeptical as he was as he donned his cloak and gathered his wand and the Vampire Stone, Severus was prompted forward by thoughts of escape from the grounds even if it was a bit of a risk. This wasn’t just about meeting Bellatrix again—well, not entirely. Instead, it had become about the principle of the thing. Facing homelessness in just a few short weeks, not to mention new levels of embarrassment he would have to conceal from those around him, Severus saw this opportunity as a way to maintain control over himself and his choices. He lusted for autonomy.

No one would put him in a box and shut the door. He had suffered too much under his father to put up with that indignity, especially if Dumbledore’s mandate extended to the next school year.

Thus, Severus decided to put a little trust in his enemy and hope that Sirius wasn’t trying to make a fool of him again. The air outside was cool and thankfully refreshing, a perfect change from the sometimes stifling air in his corner of the library, where he had spent most of the day researching more about different uses of Legilimency and Occlumency.

As promised, Sirius was waiting for him, dressed oddly in muggle attire—Severus crinkled his nose that the ill-fitting jeans and the too-large black jumper. Sirius waved, grinning widely. Severus wondered at that expression, but proceeded onward, determined to see this through. Shivering against a sudden chill, he approached Sirius, his hand gripping his wand.

“You’re right on time, just as I expected,” Sirius said grandly. Severus couldn’t help but notice almost the same impish cadence in his voice, reminding him all too much of Regulus.

“So, what’s this about a passage out of here?” Severus said, very businesslike.

“Not big on greetings, are you, Snape?” Sirius said sourly.

“I’m not here to make light conversation, Black.”

Sirius glared at him briefly, but then smiled. “Right then. Down to business if that’s what you want. So the path is under the tree.”

Severus raised his eyebrows, partly in alarm and partly in disbelief. “And how is that?”

“Well, I’ll go in there and secure the entrance so you can get through, and then I’ll come out. I’ll just be a minute!”

With that, Sirius dashed off, deftly avoiding the branches of the Whomping Willow as they suddenly and violently came to life, slashing and bashing and crashing down dangerously every which way that Sirius went. First, he leapt over one huge branch, nearly losing his footing, and then, he ducked and rolled towards the tree trunk as another branch took a vicious swipe at him. Sirius crawled quickly downward, disappearing under the tree’s roots, and just like that, the branches were still, as if Sirius had put it under a charm. Severus struggled to mask his awe at the feat, standing there at a safe distance, arms at his sides, watching. Soon, Sirius poked his head out of the hole and waved for Severus to come.

“It’s okay now!” he called out. “Come on! Follow me!”

A wave of claustrophobia suddenly tore through Severus, fueling his desire to escape at any cost. He lurched forward, not caring who might see, only focused on getting out of that toxic environment, away from mindless obedience. And who knew? Maybe he would actually be grateful to Sirius for once. Crazier things had happened before, so why not put a little trust in a foe, if only to exploit his resourcefulness?

Severus scrambled down the hole, crinkling his nose at the musty, earthy smell of the roots of the strange tree. He stood up and dusted the dirt off his robes, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness underground. In the near distance, Severus could hear Sirius heading, he supposed, through the pathway, outward to who knew where. He could hear his footsteps quicken, become light and deft, and it took all Severus had to keep up. Sirius was still out of his eyesight, but Severus could hear his echoing steps, though by now, those grew fainter and faster. Severus stopped for a second to catch his breath, and then pressed onward.

The pathway was very dark, very rough, tangled with roots and potholes and stones. The only light in that long tunnel was that from Severus’ wand, and even that didn’t seem bright enough at times to get him through. Undaunted, hungry for escape, he continued, his heart pounding in his ears by now, and as the pathway went upward a bit, a frisson of excitement coursed through his veins like crackling electricity, spurring him onward and up.

Where was Sirius? By now, he didn’t really care. The last thing Severus wanted to do was to spend this new freedom with the likes of Sirius Black.

At the very end of the tunnel, Severus could see shafts of light coming from above—floorboards. He was under a house or a building of some sort. That was a good sign. It meant that he could climb through without being seen by anyone on the street. Severus pressed his hand against the rough wood of the trap door and pushed, hard, letting it fall open with a loud bang. A cloud of white dust billowed upward, tickling his nose. Severus sneezed. What was that he heard? Was that voices? Whispers? Footsteps?

And then, Severus realised…this had to be a joke. How could it not be when James Potter came rushing towards him, a look of…was that terror?...on his face. Severus scowled.

“What are you doing here?” Potter asked furiously.

“What?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Snivellus?”

Severus glared at him. “I might ask you the same thing, Potter!”

“Shit,” Potter muttered under his breath. “You need to leave. Now.”

“Out the front door, if you don’t mind, Potter. Don’t worry, I won’t spoil your evening.”

But Potter grabbed him and tried to steer him back towards the trap door. “That way, Sev.”

“Get your hands off me!”

“You’ve got to go! Now!” Potter shoved him this time, but Severus shoved back. When he attempted to walk past Potter, towards the front door, Potter again stopped him.

A low, chilling growling noise interrupted their shoving match. Potter froze. So did Severus.

“What was that?” Severus asked.

“Severus, you’ve got to get out of here,” Potter whispered, now more than a little frantic. “Please!”

“What was that?”

He glanced up to the second floor of the house to see Sirius Black doubled over in hysterics, but then, in a flash, Potter was no longer Potter but…he was the stag! Severus could only stare openly in shock and amazement, so he didn’t quite know what to do when the low growl turned into a roar, and when it went from being distant to being just over his shoulder. Cold sweat dripped down his neck and back, but Severus was cemented to the spot where he stood, as if someone had placed a sticking charm on his big feet. His breathing became shallow and laboured as the growl echoed in his ear, and then…BAM! In one motion, Severus was knocked off his feet and in another motion, the stag…that is, Potter…took a swipe at the now roaring, howling, frothing werewolf that was mere inches from tearing out Severus’ throat.

Severus rolled to one side, watching in sheer horror and confusion as, on one hand, the stag chased the werewolf out of the house and on the other hand, Sirius Black rolled on the upper floor near the rickety stairwell, shaking and convulsing with laughter.

Potter transformed into himself and lunged at Sirius, grabbing at his robes.

“What the hell were you doing?” Potter roared.

“Oh come on, Prongs, lighten up!” Sirius choked through more laughter.

“He could have killed him, you stupid moron! What were you thinking?” Potter sounded furious…afraid. 

Severus could feel his throat tighten, still not completely sure of what had just happened. He stood there stupidly, watching this escalading fight between what he knew were very close friends.

“So what’s your point?” Sirius said gleefully, sounding far too much like Regulus as his very worst levels of glibness.

Potter gripped Sirius’ robes again, jerking him forward roughly. “Gods, Padfoot, you sound just like your mother,” he seethed.

Sirius pulled himself away from Potter’s grasp, looking as if he’d just been slapped in the face. “Don’t you DARE compare me to that harpy!” he barked. “You know damn well…”

“What? That you nearly killed someone, on purpose? That you lured him here unfairly?”

Sirius laughed derisively. “That would be one less Death Eater in the world,” he said coldly.

Potter gasped. Severus blood ran cold. He couldn’t stay any longer in that room. His heart felt dead all of a sudden, numb and depleted of any energy or life force. As the argument raged on, Severus turned back towards the trap door, slid quietly through, back into the tunnel, and meandered slowly in the dark, not knowing or caring whether he made it to the other side. He wanted to cry and rage and join Potter in thrashing Sirius, but he didn’t have the heart or the will.

But one day, Severus was sure, Sirius Black would get what was coming to him. And then, perhaps, Severus might start to believe in the concept of justice once more. He hoped.


	14. The Curse of Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Severus paused, furious that, perhaps for the first time, he would now be obliged to be grateful to James Potter, obligated now to honor this life-debt. Every fibre in his body rioted against this painful irony, and in the end, all he could was mutter a reluctant “thanks,” through gritted teeth. That thanks, however, came with a steep price, which angered Severus even further. It meant that he could no longer badger Potter in public, and no longer could he tolerate anyone else doing the same. It was true, he admitted, that Potter had taken a huge risk and very likely could have been killed by the werewolf._
> 
> _But…_

He couldn’t eat the next morning. Even the smallest hint of the scent of food made Severus’ stomach sour painfully. Coming to the Great Hall for breakfast itself had been a feat of great courage for Severus that morning. He would much rather have stayed in bed, still shaken and confused by what had gone on in that strange place. A cold wave of disgust oppressed him, drowned his thoughts, making him feel that gagging sense of shame all over again. Why would Sirius want to kill him? Did he want to kill him? Was this true malice or out of control thoughtlessness? Severus struggled to make sense of it, but with little to show for it.

Regulus tried everything to get his friend to eat but the more he plied Severus with eggs or bacon or tomatoes, the more Severus thought of Sirius Black, howling with laughter at yet another humiliating prank. He wanted to disapparate, but of course, that was impossible.

“Come on, Sev, you’re being a real downer today,” Regulus said brightly. Too brightly.

Severus snarled. “I’m just sick, alright? Give it a rest, Black.” He could still smell the dust from that house, burning the inside of his nose.

“Skive off today,” Cassius suggested. “I’ll tell Sluggy you’re sick so you won’t get in trouble.”

“Nah,” Severus replied. “I’ve got a project to finish and some research to do.”

Regulus laughed. “You live in that library, man!” Again, humiliating thoughts of Sirius burned in Severus’ all too recent memory.

“Is that a problem?” he snapped at Regulus.

Regulus’ face fell. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. I was just kidding.”

“I’ve had enough jokes from your family this week,” Severus replied bitterly.

Regulus frowned. “Sirius?”

Severus gave a loud hmmph! And returned to his uneaten toast.

“He’s a total ass, you know,” Regulus said.

“And that’s news?”

Regulus folded his hands behind his head and inhaled sharply through his nose. “The whole house smells better now that his dog arse is gone.”

Cassius and Evan laughed. Severus snarled.

“I’m half tempted to sell all his stuff or at least put a curse on it, but that would mean getting his stink on me by going into his room,” Regulus continued, to more snorts and laughs from the rest of the table. Looking casually over his shoulder, Regulus spotted his brother at a distance, but within earshot. He smirked. “You know, it’s a real family scandal to be so closely related to a filthy blood-traitor,” he said grandly, and loudly.

Severus rolled his eyes, wishing Regulus would stop. But Regulus wouldn’t stop.

“It was bad enough that Mother had to obliterate my brother’s name from the family tree, but the worst part is all the lies she has to tell just to pretend that he’s someone else’s embarrassment!”

“The Dark Lord knows how to deal with blood-traitors,” Cassius said in a low rumble.

Regulus pushed his hair away from his face, much as his brother did, with a sort of diffident confidence. “As far as I’m concerned, it’ll be a happy day. Our family will finally be able to hold its head up with pride again and not be dragged down by vile, disloyal…”

In a flash, Sirius charged over from the far end of the Gryffindor table, nearly knocking over three Hufflepuff girls who were chatting about some boy they all liked.

“Keep talking, little brother,” Sirius hissed. “The more you say the stupider you sound.”

Regulus jumped up from his seat, facing his brother nose to nose. “You’re not just a blood-traitor, BROTHER! You’re a stupid fucking HYPOCRITE, too! Maybe we’ll all get lucky and you’ll take a header off the Astronomy Tower one day!”

Cassius laughed. “I think Sev can help you there, Black,” he said to Sirius.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Severus, who shot back an equally vicious glare. “Bring it on, Snape,” Sirius spat.

Severus raised his eyebrows in mock amusement. “I don’t think you want to take me on.”

Sirius laughed loudly. “Yeah right, Snivellus! Maybe out of pity since you can’t seem to take care of yourself.”

Severus nodded. “Oh that’s right, Black, I keep forgetting. See, since you’re so buddy-buddy with a werewolf, you can let other people do your fighting for you! Let’s see, uh, James Potter, or what was that name you call him between the sheets? Uh, Spawn was it? And then there’s your furry little friend, from whatever bog he emerged to harass the populace. And that little ratty cocksucker kiss-arse friend of yours, Pettigrew, well, Black, you’re on your own with THAT thing.”

Sirius threw a glance at Regulus. “What was that about a cocksucker friend?” he snarled. “Maybe I had you figured wrong, Snivelly. Maybe you go in for those back door antics.”

“Is that all you’ve got, Black? Gay jokes? You’re an idiot unless you’ve got some other lackey there to back you up.”

“At least I’ve got friends and not just people that want to use me to get ahead.”

“You don’t have anything people want,” Severus retorted. “All you have is a big ego and a fat mouth and that’s it. You don’t even have a family that cares two shits about you.”

Severus fully expected Regulus to speak up at that moment and maybe try to tone down the comment, but instead, Regulus remained silent. He folded his arms across his chest and glared defiantly at his brother, who gave him a curious, inexplicable look as if he, too, were expecting Regulus to speak.

“Rot in hell, the both of you,” Sirius replied, his quiet voice shaking with rage. With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Severus returned to his seat, filled his plate with eggs and bangers and kippers and ate everything…plus seconds and thirds.

* * * * *

The rest of the day was quiet for Severus. He attended his lessons, earned yet another O in Potions, ate a huge lunch with Cassius and Alecto Carrow, and then retired to library for a couple of hours to revise for a Transfiguration exam. By then, Severus had advanced in his magic to such a degree that revising for any exam was merely going through the motions—by now he could perform the most subtle and flexible forms of magic, finding himself to be the envy of his class and even of some of his professors.

Thus, the sudden, unwelcome presence of James Potter at his elbow unsettled Severus, to say the least. It was as if his little bubble of relative peace and privacy had been viciously invaded by someone who only had his very worst interests at heat.

“What?” Severus snapped impatiently.

“You okay?” Potter moved to sit down, but remained standing, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

“Excuse me?”

“He didn’t get you, right?”

“Get me? No, Lupin didn’t get me.”

Potter blanched. “You knew it was Lupin?”

“Give me some credit for having half a brain, Potter. Who else could it be? Tell me, does Dumbledore know?”

“About Remus? Yeah, he knows. Look, Severus, I just wanted you to know that I had no idea that Sirius was bringing you down there. I was just as shocked as I’m sure you were.”

“You have no idea how I felt, and I don’t really think you care.”

Potter rolled his eyes in frustration. “I don’t blame you for being angry, but don’t you dare try to tell me what I care about. By the way, I saved your stupid life, so I’d think you’d be a little grateful!”

Severus paused, furious that, perhaps for the first time, he would now be obliged to be grateful to James Potter, obligated now to honor this life-debt. Every fibre in his body rioted against this painful irony, and in the end, all he could was mutter a reluctant “thanks,” through gritted teeth. That thanks, however, came with a steep price, which angered Severus even further. It meant that he could no longer badger Potter in public, and no longer could he tolerate anyone else doing the same. It was true, he admitted, that Potter had taken a huge risk and very likely could have been killed by the werewolf.

But…

Though James Potter was only a minor figure in Severus’ life, he had somewhat thrived on the mutual antipathy between the two. As much as he detested Potter and as much as he resented him, he needed those verbal fencing matches, much like a boxer needs a punching bag or a sparring partner. Naturally, Severus still felt free to parry with Sirius Black, but it wasn’t quite the same, perhaps because Sirius looked too much like Regulus, laughed too much like Regulus, sounded too much like Regulus.

Severus couldn’t understand himself sometimes. Had Sirius been in Slytherin with him, rather than in Gryffindor with Potter, would things be different between them? Would he be a blood-traitor or would he, too, strive to join the organisation?

Forget them. Forget the whole bloody incident. Move on. Get over it. Those thoughts dominated Severus’ mind the rest of the night—yet another reason to have a grudge against Potter. Severus had wanted to work out the last details on another new spell he was developing, and instead, spent the restless night rebuking himself and trying to think of ways not to feel grateful to Potter.

No such luck.

* * * * *

Unlike the rest of the student body, Severus always looked forward with eager anticipation to end of term exams. He studied assiduously for each one, wanting to know more than the professor, which he usually did. Regulus often reminded him that the Dark Lord didn’t care about exams or NEWT grades, but Severus did care. He felt that it was his duty to himself, that he was somehow morally obliged to succeed academically, lest he bring further shame to his mother. The ability to win, to dominate his peers, at least in the classroom, became as essential as breathing to Severus, especially now that he had been humiliated once again by Sirius Black.

During exam week, Severus saw no one, preferring to isolate himself in the library in his usual dark corner. Fortunately, Regulus was weighed down by his OWL’s so at least that was one less distraction for Severus. The week prior to exams, Severus spent hours with Regulus, going over the more intricate details of Potions, Charms and Transfiguration. He would have helped Regulus with Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Regulus had laughed that one off.

“What a stupid class!” he would always say. “I should have gone to Durmstrang where you get a proper education in dark magic.”

“Too bloody bad you’re related to a former Headmaster,” Severus would reply.

On the very last day of exams, Severus was suddenly assaulted by a thought he had been repressing for months. He had allowed himself to be pleasantly distracted by everything else going on, with stags and dogs and nearly being killed and arguing and…Bellatrix. He hadn’t forgotten about that intense, wild afternoon in her bed, and now that he was on the brink of freedom, at lest for two months, he could see her as often as he wished…that is, as often as she wished, too. Severus admitted that much of his isolation was self-imposed, brought on by a nagging, burning impatience with people and their small minds.

Oddly, now that he was on the brink of temporary homelessness, Severus wanted to be close to people, and he wished more than anything that he could simply pick up and present himself to the Blacks and their charity. His mind ached and his mouth watered and his spine tingled at each thought of confiding to Regulus, and each time he talked himself out of it, Severus couldn’t help but feel as if his heart had turned to coal dust. He sometimes wished he wasn’t so intensely proud, and he even saw wisdom in Potter’s harsh words towards him. Potter had a point. 

But it wasn’t enough. Severus wanted too much, strove for things that required him to look only straight ahead, and if that meant he had to step over people without a thought, then so be it. That was his only option as far as he was concerned. To step back and let others in would spell disaster for Severus. It would make him soft, ordinary.

Standing at the edge of the Black Lake, Severus squared his shoulders, turning his face upward to meet the sun’s warm rays. He stood like that for a couple of minutes, using the Vampire Stone to take in the magical energy he could feel swirling around him. Severus didn’t quite understand why he felt so much power near the water. But as magnetic, electric and thrilling as it was, it didn’t solve the problem of what to do. What to do? What to do? How to live? How to eat? Severus supposed he could conjure a little place and some food, but he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to. Maybe he could somehow stay by this lake, but even that sounded ridiculous. The Dark Lord wouldn’t be impressed by someone who knew how to camp out.

Severus paced back and forth, wanting to circle the lake but unable to leave the spot. He suddenly wanted to run away from school forever, forgetting all about his ambitions and maybe even trying to reconcile with his mother. But that was no good. He wanted too much but he couldn’t seem to surmount his current, shameful circumstances. What to do?

After a few more minutes of frustrated pacing and swearing, Severus turned to face the castle once more. What was this place? Was it a place of learning and growth or had it become a prison? Severus wanted to delve even deeper into the magic contained the castle, but at the same time, some remote part of him wanted to rebel and run straight to the Dark Lord. Why not start his career early? Why stay in a place that was starting to hold him back? Why stay with people who wanted to restrict him or humiliate him or even endanger him? He sighed lightly, suddenly missing the cramped little row-house on Spinner’s End.

A figure walked towards him from the direction of the Forbidden Forest, striding with purpose and strength, as if on a mission of some sort. Severus thought to get away quickly, but when he saw that the figure was Sirius Black, he clenched his fists tightly, feeling his muscles tighten and his stomach boil. He met Sirius halfway, reaching into his robes for his wand.

“Expelliarmus!” Sirius shouted, pointing his own wand directly at Severus. Severus’ wand flew out of his hand, landing with a soft fluff on the grass.

“Accio wand!” Severus commanded, pointing a long finger at the ground. His wand flew obediently into his waiting hand.

Again, Sirius shouted, “Expelliarmus!” but this time, Severus trumped him by shouting “Protego!” Sirius stopped in his tracks, scowling. He folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot impatiently as Severus neared him, wand pointed at Sirius’ throat.

“I didn’t come here to fight you, Severus,” Sirius barked.

“Strange way of showing it!” Severus retorted, wand still out, though by now he had lowered it a bit.

“Nice passageway, Black! I’ll have to remember it the next time I feel suicidal!”

Sirius pressed his lips together in a long pout, his eyes lowered to the ground. “I wasn’t going to let you get hurt, you know.”

“You’re a liar. You sat up there on the stairs and let Potter take care of things for you! I don’t think even your brother would do something that, though I admit your cousin Bella would.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so it’s Bella now? Not Bellatrix? Not Mrs. Lestrange? One shag and you’re suddenly a part of the family?”

“What do you want, Black?” Severus grumbled, eager to change the subject. “I trust it’s not to apologise. I wouldn’t expect civility from you, though your friend Potter does have his moments.”

Sirius pressed his lips together again. He scratched his chin. “I…need a favour.”


	15. A Desperate Plea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He had to be joking. Sirius Black wanted a favour from Severus Snape? Was he for real?_

He had to be joking. Sirius Black wanted a favour from Severus Snape? Was he for real?

“I have no interest in doing the slightest thing for you, Black,” Severus declared. “That is, unless it involves inflicting pain on you by throwing you to Lupin.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Sirius replied. But then, his handsome features became troubled, even anguished. “Look, I know you and my brother are really close. He talks about you like you’re some sort of god to him or something.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Sirius touched Severus’ arm, looking briefly into his eyes. A quick use of Legilimency on Severus’ part showed him something that shocked him completely. Every single image in Sirius’ mind at that moment involved Regulus, whether they were little boys romping on the beach at Dover, or teenagers arguing violently at the Black mansion.

“You may not understand this,” Sirius said, “but in spite of our deep differences, I do actually love my brother, and I care about what happens to him, especially now.”

Severus gave him a half-bow. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Sirius,” he said smoothly. “I’m touched.”

Sirius stomped his foot in frustration. “Look, man, I’m being serious! You and I both know that my brother is just about to make the most colossal mistake of his short life. He and I have argued over this forever, but he’s so bloody brainwashed by my mother that he won’t listen to reason!”

“Maybe she’s not the one being unreasonable.”

“You can’t possibly believe that! You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know these people, Severus.”

“I do know them.”

“You partied with them a few times but you don’t know them. I grew up around these people. I grew up with You-Know-Who coming to the house every bloody month to fill my family with even more lies! He even tried to get me to join up! He’s still trying!”

Severus noticed that most people on campus were gravitating towards the Great Hall for dinner. His stomach rumbled restlessly, begging him to join his friends.

“Perhaps we can discuss your family troubles some other time, Black. I’m going into dinner.”

“Wait! Look, Severus, you have a strong influence over Regulus. I know you do! He wants to be so much like you, and I know he listens to you. If you could just talk to him, get him to rethink this madness!”

“Why would I wish to do that?”

“Because he’s too young! He’s immature, he’s messed up! He doesn’t know how to think for himself because he’s never been taught!”

“His thought processes are just fine as far as I’m concerned.”

Sirius grabbed Severus by the arms, his angry eyes panicked and nearly tearful. “Please, Severus, please talk to him! Just talk!”

Severus jerked himself out of Sirius’ grasp. “I absolutely will not! Who do you think you are, Black! You can’t just abuse someone and then turn around and expect them to do your bidding! You really are a spoilt brat!” With that, Severus stormed off, marching towards the Great Hall.

“You’re sending him to his death, you bloody coward!” Sirius called to him.

Severus stopped in his tracks, burning with outrage. He whipped around, wand out, charging full force at Sirius, his black eyes flashing hotly.

“Don’t you DARE blame me for whatever might happen! Who do you think you are, calling ME a coward, you fucking hypocrite! Your failure to force him to be like you is NOT my fault, and it doesn’t make me a coward!” Without another word, and with no more aggression left in him, Severus shoved Sirius back, and resumed his trek to the Great Hall, swearing bitterly all the way.

He ate his dinner without enjoyment that evening, his attention far away from the Great Hall or Hogwarts or anywhere else. All Severus could focus on was watching Regulus’ every move, his casual humour, his boyish impulsiveness, his wildly inappropriate comments that made everyone laugh. Regulus was a prince in every respect, having been raised never to have to be concerned about anyone outside his own self. Severus wanted to blame Regulus for that, but found he couldn’t. After all, Sirius was much the same. That prank was evidence of that to him, that he wasn’t raised to think beyond his own amusement and be considerate of others.

But that was what confused Severus about Sirius. True, he detested him deeply, resented him, harboured deep antipathy towards him for his constant thoughtlessness and abuse. Could it be that this sort of behaviour was beyond Sirius’ control, that he was hopelessly self-absorbed? Did he have it in him even remotely to see beyond himself, or was he destined to be consumed by his own, immediate concerns? And if he was, then what did that mean for Regulus? Severus shifted uncomfortably on the bench, taking a long drink of pumpkin juice. The thought that Sirius Black might be right about his brother made Severus suddenly feel nearly ill.

Maybe he should say something. Maybe his silence really would send Regulus to his death.

Severus resolved that he would, in fact, bring up the subject, though how and when and even where remained something to consider. After all, Regulus wasn’t scheduled to become a Death Eater until the start of September.

Then, another, more drastic thought assaulted Severus’ mind. If Regulus was unready for the organisation, then what about himself? He was only a year older, after all. True, he had gone muggle-baiting with the likes of Lucius and Bellatrix, but he was sure that Death Eaters did a lot more than just that. Did he have it in him to go through with it, to live up to the Dark Lord’s expectations? Was he man enough to take the plunge into murder and mayhem, all for the cause?

Regulus laughed. “Earth to Severus!” he exclaimed, waving his hand in front of Severus’ face.

Severus scowled and chucked a squashy chip at Regulus, who picked it up and mashed it against Amycus Carrow’s cheek, making him spill his pumpkin juice all over the remains of his roasted chicken. His sister, Alecto, laughed and applauded.

“You look better like that, Carrow,” Severus observed. He could feel Sirius glare burning into the back of his head. Severus ignored him.

* * * * *

The subject of what to do about Regulus Black wouldn’t go away, even back in the Slytherin common room that very night. Everyone had spent the better part of the evening packing up trunks, putting away school books, folding clothes and getting themselves ready for the return home. 

Severus couldn’t suppress a feeling of intense envy, as the rest of his housemates would be returning to their own families, safe in their homes. He still hadn’t worked out a plan for himself, and now that he would be leaving Hogwarts in a mere few hours, Severus wasn’t quite sure what to do. He considered begging his mother to take him in, but balked at that. The last thing Severus Snape ever wanted to do in life was to beg for anything. His sense of pride and integrity simply wouldn’t allow this new shame to happen, even if it meant sleeping in alleyways or disused muggle buildings.

He supposed he could get a job, probably at Borgin and Burke’s shop. After all, if he already a reputation as a talented dark wizard, then a crafty old sod like Borgin should jump at the chance to employ him. Actually, the more he thought about it, that was actually a great idea. He supposed he could take a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the summer and then just work at the shop. Of course, there was no guarantee that Borgin would hire him, but Severus decided to take the chance. He had only been to Borgin and Burke’s once, but he remembered being so entranced by the multitude of dark objects that he salivated to return there. To be an employee with access to these objects filled Severus with deep longing.

“Ready for the off?” Regulus asked, handing Severus a pile of folded socks.

“If you’ll give me my socks, then yes.”

Regulus glanced at the threadbare socks and crinkled his nose. “You need to go shopping, man. I bet you could fit four toes through that one hole.” He chuckled at his own joke. Severus did not.

“Thank you so much for your fashion advice, Regulus.” He snatched the socks and slammed them into his trunk.

“Hey, I was just jerking your chain, Sev. Sorry I offended you.”

Severus shrugged. “Actually, you’re right. I really do need new socks. There’s only so many spells I can put on them before they’re just pathetic.”

Regulus took that as a truce, and he grinned. “Say, are you going to stay with us again this summer?”

“Isn’t that up to your mother?”

“Oh, she’ll love it! She really liked you last summer. In fact, she still talks about you all the time.”

Severus reddened. “Well, if it’s alright with her, then yeah, I’d like that.”

The following day on the train, Regulus could talk of little else than the impending visit of his best friend, Severus Snape. With Mulciber, Cassius and Evan taking in every word as if Regulus were holding court, Regulus regaled them with all sorts of summer plans—parties at the Rack and Noose, more muggle-baiting, meeting the Dark Lord, visiting Bella and Rodolphus at their new home, visiting Lucius and Narcissa at Malfoy Manor.

“Just don’t get Lucius in trouble, Regulus,” Severus said wryly. “After all, he’s newly married. You might need to get your recreation elsewhere.”

“Oh ha ha,” Regulus scoffed.

“We should plan to firebomb the Potter estate,” Cassius suggested.

Regulus laughed. “Yeah, but let’s make sure that my brother is there when it happens.”

Everyone laughed, including Severus.

“It would serve the blood-traitors right,” Mulciber said heavily.

Severus rolled his eyes impatiently. “I think Regulus was joking, Mulciber, though the fact that you took him seriously is rather touching.”

“Who said I was joking?” Regulus shot back.

“Funny, Reg,” Cassius said, laughing. “You don’t really want to firebomb the Potter estate, do you?”

Regulus crossed his legs and sat back lazily. “Well I don’t know,” he replied smoothly, doing his best to imitate Severus. “OK, so the Potters don’t have to be home. Just Sirius.”

“You’re a sick fuck, Regulus,” Cassius said. “Say, Sev, you going to see Bellatrix Lestrange again?”

Severus shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Regulus grinned and sat up. “You know you are, you perv.”

“Does Roddy know you fucked her?” Mulciber asked.

Both Regulus and Severus choked back a laugh. “Goodness, Mulciber,” Severus replied. “You really have a way with words.”

“Does he know?” Regulus asked.

“It’s your family, Black. Why don’t YOU know?” Severus retorted.

Regulus grinned. “I guess if he tries to kill you during your visit with us, then we can pretty safely say he knows.”

“That’s usually good evidence,” Severus conceded. “Thank goodness he’s slow-witted.”

* * * * *

As the train pulled into King’s Cross Station, everyone jumped up to gather their things and get ready to go. In the confusion and tussle that always accompanied this moment, Severus stepped into the corridor so that Cassius could get his trunk down. Glancing over his shoulder, Severus spotted long red hair and the lovely face of Lily Evans. Out of instinct, he gave her a furtive wave, and to his surprise, she smiled and waved back. But just then, James Potter emerged from the compartment, his hand holding hers.

The two of them stood and stared at each other for a moment, both unsure what to do or say. Finally, Severus gave Potter a quick nod, which Potter returned, before disappearing down the corridor with Lily. Sirius Black emerged next, unfortunately just at the same time that Regulus stumbled into the corridor, having lost his balance because he was laughing at Mulciber, who had gotten the hem of his robes stuck in the seat. But his handsome features darkened at the sight of his brother. Regulus stood up straight, squaring his shoulders defiantly, glaring fiercely at Sirius. For a moment, Severus was sure that Sirius would step up and say something to Regulus, but instead, Sirius merely shook his head sadly, turned on his heel and followed Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew out. Severus also noticed that Regulus’ hands were shaking.

“Come on,” Severus said. “Let him go.”

“I hate him, Severus.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You have no damn idea.”

The sight of Walburga and Orion Black lifted Regulus’ spirits the second they stepped out onto the platform. They looked like royalty, dressed in posh, silk robes in rich blues and dark green. Mrs. Black still had that diamond pin fastened at her throat—it sparkled in the sunlight, like some sort of beacon. Regulus grinned and waved wildly at them, rushing to greet his parents. Severus followed at a close distance, dreading that the Blacks might ask him about his mother. What could he say? How to cover up his humiliating circumstances?

“Severus Snape,” Mrs. Black said grandly. “You look so well. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Mrs. Black,” Severus replied smoothly.

“I don’t see your mother here,” Mrs. Black noted. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine. I’m actually not going home right away. I’m staying in the city.”

“Oh! What are you doing here in London?” she asked.

Severus hesitated. “I’m planning on getting a job, actually. Now that I’m close to leaving school, I need to build up my bank balance.”

“That is a very good idea,” Mr. Black said approvingly. “Where are you employed, son?”

“I’m not yet,” Severus replied. “My hope is to work at Borgin and Burke’s, actually.”

That didn’t seem to resonate well with the patrician Blacks. “Someone like you in a shop?”

“The place doesn’t concern me, though I appreciate the sentiment,” Severus said. “I would have unparalleled exposure to some very interesting artifacts whilst there. I don’t think I could ask for better experience than that.”

Mr. Black seemed to like that response. “You are very clever, son,” he said, even more approvingly. “Regulus was right about you.”

“But this troubles me,” Mrs. Black said officiously. “Where will you reside?”

“Probably the Leaky Cauldron.”

She shook her head in protest. “On the pittance that Borgin is likely to pay you? No. That is unacceptable.”

“He won’t pay me a pittance,” Severus replied, a little more sharply than he had intended. But what did she know?

“He is as cheap as they come, my dear,” she replied. “No, it won’t be possible to build up a savings in that situation. You must stay with us. I insist.”

“You mean the whole summer?” Regulus exclaimed.

“Severus, you simply have no choice in this,” Mrs. Black said. “I won’t stand aside and watch such an extraordinary young man like you endure such awful conditions. You will come this very day, in fact.”

“Ma’am, I appreciate your offer,” Severus said, “but I don’t need…”

“This is not charity, Severus,” she replied. “In fact, there is a price for your keep.”

“A price?” Regulus asked.

“Yes, baby, a price. I’m sure Severus will be willing to comply.”

Severus raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Will I?”

“You are famous already for writing very powerful and extremely dark spells, are you not?”

Regulus laughed. “She’s got you on that, Sev.”

Severus sighed. “I prefer to keep those to myself, actually. I’m extremely protective of them.”

“You will teach us two spells,” she went on, ignoring his protest. “Your choice, of course. But you will teach us two dark spells.”

“I’m not a teacher, ma’am,” Severus replied, now a little irritated.

“This is not an option, my dear,” she said sternly.

“Back down while it’s safe, Sev,” Regulus said, laughing at his frustration. “You’re not winning this one!”


	16. The Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He entered the room as silently as a ghost, yet his presence was unmistakable. As one, every single person at the party turned their attention to the newcomer. Severus couldn’t suppress a gasp as he took in the strange, slightly repulsive yet magnetic appearance of the Dark Lord. To his astonishment, the Dark Lord locked eyes with him, giving him the impression of being not merely x-rayed, but probed, intruded upon in an unwelcome way. Instinctively, he shut his mind against the Dark Lord._
> 
> _That made the Dark Lord grin. The grin made Severus shudder, and immediately feel intense guilt for it._

Back to the Blacks.

It came as a welcome relief to Severus, and as much as he felt uneasy about accepting Mrs. Black’s offer, he looked forward to becoming useful to the organisation for the first time. Though he was reluctant to share his own spells with anyone, he was still flattered that a woman such as the formidable Mrs. Walburga Black actually wanted to learn from him. Severus felt a swell of pride that he actually had something to offer, as well. Not that he would divulge his darkest spells to anyone—that would be imprudent. Still, there were other tricky little spells that caused a fair amount of damage that he felt no problem passing on.

One, called the Empty Talon, removed the victim’s fingernails—one by one, and in slow motion. Severus felt certain that Mrs. Black would especially like that one. Another one he decided he could pass on was something he called the Knocking Knee jinx. This spell cracked the kneecaps of the victim and then sent the shards of bone outward, eventually piercing the skin. But he kept Sectumsempra carefully to himself. That one was too precious, too lethal, too personal. If he ever did use it, it would be for very special reasons.

The Black Mansion looked about the same as last summer—ornate, regal, lush and splendid in every way, as different from the house at Spinner’s End as was humanly possible. They put Severus in the same guest room as last year. He noticed that it was freshly cleaned by one of the several House Elves the Blacks owned. The dark green duvet was already turned down, ready for him, and the Elf had even left a mint on the pillow, awaiting his presence. Severus sat on the edge of the soft, very comfortable bed for a moment, struggling to gather his thoughts as he listened to the sounds of moving in, banging trunks, Regulus whining, Mrs. Black barking orders to Kreacher, the chief House Elf.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Mrs. Black rushed in. “Now then, Severus, I wanted to tell you that we have an unexpected but very special dinner guest this evening.” She smiled almost giddily. “The Dark Lord is favouring us with an audience tonight! I’ve owled all the family, well, at least the Black sisters and their husbands, and a few other select people, to join us since they are all involved in the organisation in one way or another.”

Severus hardly knew what to say. “That’s…amazing, Mrs. Black!”

“Naturally, he knows that you are here and he is very eager to meet you.”

“Me? Really?”

“Of course! Oh, and by the way, I will be more than happy to give you a reference for your job at Borgin’s, as will my husband. And I’m sure that Abraxas Malfoy would also be more that willing to refer you. Borgin will not reject you with these references, I am certain.”

Severus was overwhelmed, barely able to speak. “That is extremely kind of you. Thank you so much, Mrs. Black.”

The sound of feet pounding on the stairs signaled the arrival of Regulus, who bounded breathlessly into the room, nearly knocking into his mother. Mrs. Black gave him a stern look, but petted his hair and stepped back towards the door.

“Did you hear?” Regulus exclaimed. “He’s coming! Tonight! You are going to LOVE him, Sev! This is SO exciting!”

Mrs. Black laughed. “Now I want both you boys to look your very best,” she instructed. “Severus, I trust you still have the robes we found last summer?”

“Yes, of course. And don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll make sure Regulus is on his best behaviour.”

She smiled. “That could take some doing!”

The prospect of meeting the Dark Lord so soon flustered Severus. The situation was entirely out of his control, which he detested. He had suffered too much from a lack of control, and while he did not fear the Dark Lord, he wished that he could meet him on his own terms, and in his own time. How could he possibly be impeccably and perfectly impressive on such short notice? Severus was tired from the long train ride, and in truth, all he wanted to do that night was to take a bath and crawl into bed with a good book.

“How long have your parents known the Dark Lord?” he asked Regulus.

“Since they were all at school together. Mum was a year ahead of the Dark Lord back in the day. They were pretty close friends, actually.”

“They didn’t…date, did they?” Severus asked.

Regulus laughed. “No. It was always Mum and Dad. But she says they shared a lot of ideas. Dad says the organisation started back then, or at least the basic philosophy of it, and it was all a product of their conversations together.”

“That’s incredible. Sirius told me he visits frequently.”

Regulus nodded. “Well not every day or anything, I mean, he’s a busy man, but growing up, we saw a lot of him. I think that’s why he wanted me and Sirius to enter at sixteen, because he knows us so well.”

“Only Sirius rebelled,” Severus pointed out.

“The Dark Lord still has hope in my brother, even though the rest of us don’t. The Dark Lord sees what the rest of us don’t, you know? He’ll know the best way to turn my brother around.”

* * * * *

At seven o’clock sharp, the Black mansion was filled with guests, all milling about with crystal wine glasses and canapés on delicate porcelain plates, chatting amongst themselves casually. Severus knew nearly everyone there, to his relief. Abraxas Malfoy and his wife sat with Rabastan Lestrange, laughing over some joke. Narcissa Malfoy listened very patiently as Mrs. Black gave her endless advice on how to run an efficient household while Regulus sat in the corner near Lucius, the tips of their shoes lightly grazing against each other.

Severus, on the other hand, had been cornered by Orion Black and Rabastan Lestrange, both eager to know just how he managed to develop so many dark spells.

“It’s all to do with the intention to inflict harm and gain total control,” Severus replied glibly. “And I should add, a shedload of research, trials, revisions.”

Mr. Black laughed. “That’s all?”

He entered the room as silently as a ghost, yet his presence was unmistakable. As one, every single person at the party turned their attention to the newcomer. Severus couldn’t suppress a gasp as he took in the strange, slightly repulsive yet magnetic appearance of the Dark Lord. To his astonishment, the Dark Lord locked eyes with him, giving him the impression of being not merely x-rayed, but probed, intruded upon in an unwelcome way. Instinctively, he shut his mind against the Dark Lord.

That made the Dark Lord grin. The grin made Severus shudder, and immediately feel intense guilt for it.

Mrs. Black reached out her hands and rushed to the Dark Lord, her laugh decorating the clamour of the room.

“My lord!” she exclaimed jubilantly. “You’ve come to us once again! I am so honoured and humbled to have you in our presence.”

Curiously, the Dark Lord kept his gaze intently on Severus, even as Mrs. Black, then Lucius, then Bellatrix and the rest greeted him with enthusiasm and reverence. Severus could only stand there like a stone, staring back at the Dark Lord with equal intensity. And when the Dark Lord moved silently through the crowd, eyes unmoving, Severus still could not move a muscle.

“I know who you are,” the Dark Lord said quietly. His voice was surprisingly soft, almost gentle, yet possessed a lethal razor’s edge to it all the same.

Finally, Severus managed a slight bow. “My lord, I’m honoured to make your acquaintance at last,” he said obsequiously, casting his eyes far away from the Dark Lord’s own, oddly red eyes. He smelled something strange, not quite bad but not quite normal, either.

“I have heard much about you, Severus Snape,” the Dark Lord replied. “And now that I see you, I am even more impressed.” He searched Severus’ face for moment, looking behind and beyond eyes, nose and mouth, then grinned. “You look like your grandmother.”

Severus chuckled. “Most people say I look like my father.”

“You don’t look like your father,” the Dark Lord said, his voice huffy and surprisingly offended, as if Severus had said something disgusting. “You look nothing like him.”

“I had no idea you knew my father,” Severus replied, amazed and shocked by this revelation. He wondered Dumbledore’s devastating secret just then, but he suppressed that thought as well.

“I know a great many things about you, my boy,” the Dark Lord said. “I have known about you for many years, as a matter of fact.”

Severus didn’t know how to take that comment. “How…” he stammered.

“I have many sources who are very talented at finding new, profoundly gifted wizards for the organisation. You have been observed for some time now. Your time is nearing, Severus.”

“But that means you know about my fa…”

“As I said, I know every detail about you.” He clinked his wine glass against Severus’ and grinned. “The next time you wish to escape the school grounds, there are pathways other than under the Whomping Willow.”

How could he possibly know that? What did that mean? Severus hungered to know who had been watching him and who had been reporting on him to the Dark Lord. As angry as he was at that, that someone dared to spy on him, Severus couldn’t help but feel somewhat honoured that the Dark Lord had acknowledged his gifts and bothered to have him investigated.

“Severus, do you have a wish to join our cause?” the Dark Lord asked.

“Absolutely, sir. I’ve wanted to for quite some time,” Severus replied eagerly, silently rebuking himself for sounding too much like Regulus.

“Why do you want to join us?” the Dark Lord asked pointedly. Bellatrix giggled from her dark corner.

Severus thought fast. “Because only you have what I need and want, sir,” he replied smoothly.

The Dark Lord smirked wickedly. “And what is that, Severus?”

“You already know, do you not?” Severus replied darkly, ignoring the collective gasp from Bellatrix, Lucius and Mrs. Black.

For a quick second, Severus thought the Dark Lord might lash out and kill him, but in the next second, his snakelike features softened somewhat.

“You have a lot of nerve, speaking to me in such a way,” he said sternly. “No one has ever dared to give me such a response.”

Severus remained stoically silent, looking the Dark Lord directly in the eye, chin raised high and proud. All the while, Bellatrix look as if she might kill Severus herself, and Regulus trembled so visibly that Lucius put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from collapsing.

And then the Dark Lord grinned, baring his sharp, yellowing teeth. “You are a force to be reckoned with, Severus, a man of boldness and vision. I look forward to giving you the Dark Mark one day very soon.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Severus replied. Behind him, Regulus sighed audibly.

* * * * *

Summer was true bliss. Warm days, wild nights, endless parties and gatherings and meetings at the very highest levels of the organisation. Living at the Black mansion turned out to be a perfect arrangement for Severus, giving him intimate access to the Dark Lord’s chief lieutenants and operatives. Listening to them speak, hearing their plans, Severus’ eyes were opened to a remarkable sense of sheer cunning and boldness, tantalising him to an even greater degree.

He never quite knew how to take the Dark Lord. Over the next few weeks, Severus came to know him a little more, yet each time he met him and spoke to him, the mystery of the Dark Lord increased maddeningly. Severus wanted to bow down before him like a supplicant, praying for the remote chance that the Dark Lord might impart a small bite of wisdom to his waiting ears. 

At the same time, Severus couldn’t quite get beyond the Dark Lord’s eerie appearance—those strange red eyes seemed to burn through him at times, seeking to destroy him somehow, for reasons that Severus couldn’t fathom. He wondered why the Dark Lord looked the way he did. He wondered what happened to him, what he had done that had such a drastic result. Severus wondered whether the transformation was deliberate, but then he wondered whether he had always looked that way. The thought disturbed him more than he was willing to admit, yet this did not stop his desire.

No job at Borgin’s, however. The Dark Lord did not approve, and in fact, he was somewhat taken aback that Severus would even consider working, even if it was for Borgin. 

“You will need to learn that sewer rats like Borgin are meant to serve, whereas you are meant to command,” the Dark Lord told him plainly.

Instead, he gave Severus the rare opportunity to learn even more dark magic from his own experience, an offer which made Bellatrix Lestrange extremely jealous. This meant that Severus would consult with the Dark Lord, practically sit at his feet to learn more and more and more—Severus could hardly believe it, barely able to know how to respond to such unparalleled generosity. No one had ever given such regard as this, and only after a brief acquaintance.

“I suppose you think you’ve really achieved something,” she said to him one afternoon. They lay in Severus’ bed, her arm draped across his naked torso, exhausted from several hours’ lovemaking.

“With you?” Severus asked, caressing her arm lightly with his warm hand.

“With him, stupid,” she snapped. “With the Dark Lord.”

Severus laughed. “Are your eyes turning green, Bella?”

She jerked her arm away and sat up in bed, pouting. “I just don’t see why he’s fawning over you. You’re not even official yet! You’re barely out of your nappies!”

“So what? Are you actually admitting that perhaps the Dark Lord’s judgement isn’t always perfect?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What does he have on you?” she asked. “What was all that shit about how he knows all about you?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“Oh come on, Snape, don’t pull that ignorant act on me.”

“I think the Dark Lord is very careful about who he admits into his company,” Severus mused, twirling a lock of Bella’s hair around his long fingers. “I’m sure he takes a long look at everyone before they enter the organisation. I’m no exception.”

Bella sat up, pulling on her black silk dressing gown. “I think you are the exception, Severus.” She kissed him furtively, then scowled. “Did you know he knew your mother?”

“I don’t know that he does. Only about her.”

“But he said you look like your grandmother.”

“He might have been at school with her.”

Bella nodded. “True. I suppose that’s possible. But she would have been older, correct?”

The more questions she asked, the more irritated Severus became. After all, it was a fair point Bella had brought, making him wonder just as much about the truth of it all. Again, Severus was assaulted by the memory of that strange conversation between his mother and Dumbledore, and suddenly, he felt certain that he could not return to Hogwarts until his curiosity had been satisfied about the nature of this alleged secret he held.

The next day, in fact, Severus headed out to visit the Wizarding National Archives, located in an unassuming alleyway in industrial London. From the outside, the building looked like an old, abandoned warehouse with a rusted out door and graffiti littering the grey stone walls. But then, Severus tapped his wand four times on the heavy lock and said, “Aperi tabulae!” By its own volition, the lock spun with a whistling sound, then snapped open, admitting Severus through the doors. Inside, just like always, Severus could never quite suppress the gasp of sheer wonder as he looked upon the rows and rows and shelves and endless shelves of all sorts of books, old and new, some bound in ancient, cracked leather, and others looking like muggle paperbacks.

Severus stepped over to the circulation desk, behind which sat an extremely short, elderly witch with a very tall, bright purple beehive hairdo, and thick rimmed rectangular spectacles. She glanced at Severus and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yeah?” she asked in a creaky voice.

“Do you have any books on wizarding genealogy?”

The witch snarled. “What family?”

“Prince.”

“Go to table seven. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Finding table seven was another challenge. There were so many tables of varying sizes, and on every floor of the building. Unfortunately, the tables were not arranged in numerical order, leaving Severus with the daunting task of finding which was seven.

“Over there, love, third row back, on the end,” the witch directed him.

He sat. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then ten more. What was that about a minute? Had she forgotten about him? Just as he was about to give up, he saw it. At first, Severus thought he saw a pile of gigantic books floating over to him, but then he realised that they were being carried by the old witch. He did not, however, jump up to help her, remembering what the Dark Lord had said about those meant to serve and those meant to command.

She dumped the books onto the table with a loud bang. “Prince family. All the way back to the Roman Empire.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

With fingers itching and mouth watering, Severus opened the first book and started to read.


	17. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Severus turned to a family tree, put together by someone called APWBD in 1961. Severus saw the names of his grandparents, his uncle Ronan, who was murdered in 1959 at the age of nineteen, and his mother. But he noticed something strange. The line next to Eileen’s name indicated that she was married to Tobias Snape (m.), but the line that pointed to himself was only under her name, not theirs. Perhaps it was a mistake, that the line should have been between both Eileen and Tobias and was only accidentally under Eileen’s name. But on the other hand, what if… But that was stupid._

They were a forgettable lot, the Princes, though what distinguished them was the unbroken line of purebloods, all the way down to Severus’ mother. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of self-loathing just then, that he was the spoiler, the one to break the tradition. Sure there had been plenty of squibs in the line, and some of the Princes had rebelled in the past and married muggles or half-bloods. But Severus’ line of the family had remained much like the Blacks’— _toujours pur_. Until him.

Yet Eileen never cared about blood status but rather about her own happiness. It sometimes baffled Severus that she wouldn’t care. With such a prestigious history, why wouldn’t she care about blood status? It would make sense to care about that more than anything, since the whole family tradition had been centered around purity of blood. It also made him wonder why she would step outside tradition the way she did. Why marry a drunken sod like Tobias Snape when she could have done so much better? What did he have that attracted her so much?

Severus wanted to talk to her, to try and understand her more, to get inside her head and learn about why she never seemed to make much of herself in life. Why did she settle for life with Tobias, and why did she allow him to get away with so much violence in the past? That made Severus shake with new rage. Since his father’s death a year ago, Severus endeavoured to think of him as little as possible, as if to put his father’s memory entirely out of mind. But now, looking directly at his own family history, he could think of nothing else.

But what was this?

He turned to a family tree, put together by someone called APWBD in 1961. Severus saw the names of his grandparents, his uncle Ronan, who was murdered in 1959 at the age of nineteen, and his mother. But he noticed something strange. The line next to Eileen’s name indicated that she was married to Tobias Snape (m.), but the line that pointed to himself was only under her name, not theirs. Of course, that could mean that it was because Tobias was a muggle…but wait…he flipped back a couple of pages, looking at the tree for his ancestor, Ruiri, who had married a Scottish muggle. But the lines pointing to their children indicated both parents, not just the wizard.

Perhaps it was a mistake, that the line should have been between both Eileen and Tobias and was only accidentally under Eileen’s name. But on the other hand, what if… But that was stupid. All his life, everyone told him he looked just like his father. His muggle relatives said so, too. Why would he look like Tobias if Tobias wasn’t his father? As far as he knew, Tobias was an only child, so it couldn’t have been an affair with a brother. The only other option was that, quite simply, Tobias Snape was not his father.

But if he wasn’t, then who was?

The thought made Severus’ head spin for a moment. This was inconceivable! She had never given him the slightest thought that he might not be Tobias’ son—never! Not for a minute! Severus couldn’t move. His breathing became laboured and shallow as he struggled to make sense of this unexpected stroke.

“You alright, sonny?” the old witch said, returning to check on him. She seemed concerned, especially at the sight of his deathly pallor.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

“You sick?”

“No. I’m fine.” Severus stood up and straightened his robes. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Outside in the fresh air, Severus doubled over, afraid he might collapse in a heap on the ground. Leaning against the outside of the building, he took a few moments to catch his breath, desperate for the spinning in his head to stop. But it wouldn’t. Even hours later as he sat at the dinner table with the Blacks, Severus couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t cease the endless riot of troubling thoughts that crashed every which way through his consciousness. Finally, he set his fork down.

“Are you alright?” Mrs. Black asked.

“I don’t feel well,” he said, standing up. He wobbled a bit, but caught himself before he could fall over. “I think I’d better have a lie-down.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Regulus, take Severus to his bed.”

“I can make it on my own,” Severus protested.

“Nonsense,” she said. “Go on, Regulus. Help your friend. We can’t have Severus sick when the Dark Lord makes his next visit.”

“He’s coming back?” Regulus asked brightly. “To see all of us? Not just Severus?”

Mrs. Black laughed. “Yes, my dear, to see all of us.”

“Mrs. Black,” Severus asked, “have you ever met my mother? She was called Eileen Prince before she married…my father.”

“I’m sorry, but no. I knew about her brother, Ronan, of course. He was quite wild, a bit unstable actually. I believe he was killed before you were born.”

“Just a few months before, actually.” It sounded so strange to hear the likes of Walburga Black talk about his mother’s family so casually, and suddenly, new, furious questions assaulted Severus’ mind. Before Regulus had a chance to help him, Severus abruptly left the room and headed for the privacy of his bed, not stopping for a moment. Regulus tagged along three steps behind, unsure how to react to his friend’s distress.

“What’s going on?” he asked, still behind Severus.

Severus ignored him, and in fact, the moment he crossed the threshold of his room, he slammed the door in a confused Regulus’ face.

He sat at the window, looking down at the muggle cars and taxis and bicycles that passed so blithely by, unaware of any magical presence in their midst. Yet the muggle world was not untouched by the Dark Lord, and in fact, they were more greatly affected by the Dark Lord’s plans as each day passed. Disappearances, accidents, erratic weather, violent riots in the streets, all the products of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

There were moments when Severus had his misgivings about the whole enterprise—in his weaker moments, that is. As much as he wanted to deny it, his night of muggle-baiting with Lucius and Bellatrix last summer still haunted him as he thought about that muggle family, crushed by their own house. He thought about the muggle boy and wondered whether he survived the disaster.

But those were treacherous thoughts, thoughts he worked assiduously to cancel out. Severus reminded himself of his goals, his great desire to win his mother’s respect once again, to get her far away from Spinner’s End…

How did Ronan die?

* * * * *

Summer, like always, was a blissful blink of the eye, this one even more so. He had grown to admire the Dark Lord immensely, in spite of his occasional misgivings, and in fact, he had started to rebuke himself for being weak and uncommitted to the cause. Sure, he might have to hold his nose a bit as a Death Eater, but wasn’t it for the greater goal of achieving power and status? Wasn’t his mother worth the suffering he might endure?

It had to be. Severus wouldn’t allow himself to waffle, even for a moment. His future meant too much to him, and frankly, he felt like he had a lot to prove. If he walked away at this point, he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life. The Dark Lord had been nothing but kind to him, and he had given Severus extra praise after Severus taught a small group of Death Eaters the two promised spells. The Dark Lord put his arm around Severus’ slender shoulders, gave him a pat on the back in appreciation, leaving Severus feeling almost giddy with pride.

True, the Dark Lord used a human subject for the lesson, though he insisted to a ashamedly reluctant Severus that this young woman was, in fact, a mortal enemy. Thus, as Severus used the spell to rip her fingernails out while she wailed and shrieked grotesquely, the Dark Lord whispered in his ear, reminding him dangerously of how bad she was and how much she deserved to suffer. Though deeply shaken after the harrowing lesson the subsequent drunken orgy at the Rack and Noose, hosted by Lucius Malfoy, helped Severus feel much better, and in fact, by the end of the night, he was too besotted to remember the woman’s face or name. Bellatrix Lestrange’s attentions that night helped even more, and as they made love again and again into the small hours of the morning, the shrieks of the victim of his torture were replaced by the passionate moaning of Bellatrix, softening his heart tremendously.

But all of that was in the past now. He was back on the train, back with the usual crowd, back for his very last year at Hogwarts. Severus regretted that he didn’t speak to his mother before he returned to school—every attempt to speak to her went nowhere, mostly because she was never home. Severus wondered whether she was dating again, or if she was just busy. He wondered whether she had spoken to Dumbledore again, and more than anything, he wondered if she had perhaps even spoken to the Dark Lord. He hoped not.

Regulus had changed dramatically in the last couple of days. Perhaps it was because his sixteenth birthday neared dangerously, and along with it, his entrance into the organisation. He looked uncharacteristically pale, his eyes troubled and pained rather than exuberant and playful. Regulus’ mind had become entirely preoccupied with the upcoming event, but Severus couldn’t quite decide how Regulus felt about the prospect. He supposed that Regulus was simply excited about everything and was simply too immature to take it all in healthily. Still, Severus couldn’t help but worry about his friend, a feeling only intensified by the sight of Sirius Black trudging through the corridor of the train, trailing Potter and Lily.

It was so strange to think of Sirius Black as anything but a pompous, spoilt brat who didn’t care about anyone but himself. The idea nearly upset Severus’ entire universe, that safe harbour of antipathy he could feel towards Sirius—to see that shattered so cruelly threw him off balance, and though he maintained an outward appearance of hostility, Severus found himself asking himself too many uncomfortable questions.

Regulus watched his brother go, then turned angrily towards the window, his features somewhat contorted with rage.

“I hate him,” he grumbled.

“Forget him,” Severus said.

“I can’t. He cornered me yesterday at Flourish and Blott’s, practically ran me down. Stupid bastard. He…” But Regulus stopped, almost afraid to continue on. He furtively rubbed his eye and folded his arms in an impatient huff.

Mulciber chuckled. “Crucio him. That’ll shut him the fuck up.”

Regulus sighed.

“You’re an ape, Mulciber,” Severus said.

“You’re a dildo, Snape,” Mulciber shot back. Evan snorted with laughter.

“You don’t even know what a dildo is,” Severus replied coolly. “Though it might come in handy for you. I don’t know that your prospects with sexual relationships will progress beyond anything plastic.”

Regulus laughed…finally. Cassius nearly fell off the seat laughing, and when Mulciber flipped the finger at Severus, Evan Rosier high fived Regulus.

“So what’s the plan, Reg?” Cassius asked. “Next week, right?”

“Are you stoked?” Evan asked. “My dad tells the story of when he got the Mark, and it still makes him sort of weepy and all.”

Cassius grinned. “My dad, too. He still always looks at the Mark like it’s kind of religious or something. Mum hates it, though.”

Evan made a face. “Why? I’d think she’d be proud that he has it.”

“Maybe she jealous,” Mulciber offered. “I would be. My grandfather’s Mark moves sometimes, which is really cool. He showed me once.”

“Regulus, you’ve got to remember to tell us every single detail,” Cassius exclaimed. “Don’t leave a thing out!”

Regulus hesitated to reply, but finally managed a slow, easy grin. Mulciber eyed him suspiciously.

“You don’t seem too chuffed, Reg,” he noted. “You should be turning cartwheels by now. I thought you of all people would be speechless at this point.”

“It’s a serious thing, Mulciber,” Regulus said, irritated. “This is a big deal, man, so forgive me if I’m not acting according to your rules!”

As tempted as he was to use Legilimency in that moment, Severus resisted, not wanting to know what his friend was thinking. Had Sirius gotten to him? Was Regulus having second thoughts? It couldn’t be. In reality, Severus supposed that Regulus’ behaviour was normal, considering what he would experience in only eight more days. He figured it must be like a young man about to get married or enter a monastery, or some other major rite of passage. 

Severus wondered how he would behave when his time came. He was actually relieved that for once, Regulus finally seemed to be taking things thoughtfully, that he was deliberating his future very carefully. Perhaps Regulus Black wasn’t the flighty puppy-dog Severus had thought him to be.

* * * * *

Severus didn’t see much of Regulus over the next few days. Part of that was because of different schedules and classes, and part of that was because of the preparations Regulus undoubtedly had to make to be ready for his big day. Severus supposed that took quite some time, and he thought it best to give his friend some space to think and ponder and even pray a little bit.

How would Mrs. Black get her son out of school? Of course, she had every right to take him, though Severus was sure that Professor Dumbledore would be quick to ask as many intrusive questions as he could, all with the idea of preventing her from taking her son. But of course, that would never work. Walburga Black always got her way—no one dared say no to her, and those who might ended up being cast out. Another reason to wonder about Sirius.

The night of the seventh, as the rest of Slytherin House slumbered in their beds, Severus found that he couldn’t sleep a wink. The sound of glass breaking somewhere in the near distance disturbed him more, and upon inspection, he found a very drunken, tear-stained Regulus slumped over in a chair near the hearth, the shards of a broken whiskey bottle at his feet. Severus rushed over, his wand out, pointing at the mess.

“Evanesco!” he whispered, and in a flash, the mess vanished. This did not, however, seem to have the slightest impact of Regulus.

Severus crept over, unsure whether Regulus was in any mood or any condition to speak to him. Regulus looked…awful. His normally glittering eyes were red and swollen, marked by dark circles underneath. He had a sickly pallor to his skin, and Severus could see that Regulus’ hands trembled with…emotion. Regulus sat hunched down, his head in his hands now, sniffling loudly. Severus sat down in the chair opposite him, reaching out to touch the ends of Regulus black hair.

“Hey,” Severus said quietly.

Regulus sniffled but didn’t speak.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

Nothing. Regulus only shook his head, not looking up.

“I’m…scared,” Regulus finally said, his voice thick with sorrow.

“What are you scared about?” Severus leaned closer and put a comforting hand on Regulus’ shoulder.

To Severus shock and horror, Regulus broke down in bitter tears. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake!”

Severus had no idea what to say. All he could do was sit there and hope that Regulus would clarify himself, take back what he had just said, somehow be rational rather than babbling drunken treachery and nonsense.

“Severus, I don’t know what to do,” Regulus said through tears. “I need help.”


	18. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Regulus opens his heart to Severus and expresses his doubts and fears about entering the Death Eaters, Severus isn't quite sure what to do, and when Regulus' big day arrives, all hell breaks loose, thanks to a furious, frantic Sirius.

Severus frantically searched for something to say—anything but this irrational rant.

“This is a big moment for you, Regulus,” Severus said, trying desperately to calm his friend down. “I’d be shocked if you weren’t scared.”

Regulus lifted his head, finally looking Severus in the eyes. Severus’ heart broke at the sight of such profound agony, especially in Regulus. He couldn’t understand it, why Regulus of all people would be so torn up just as his great dream was about to be fulfilled.

“No, Severus, it’s more than that,” Regulus confessed. But then he broke down again, crying all the more bitterly. “I’m such a jerk, Sev! I’m such a damn pussy!”

“Come on, Regulus…”

“NO! You’re not listening! I just…I don’t know whether I…have what it takes…to go through with this.”

“Then don’t,” Severus replied.

“I have to! I don’t have a choice!”

“Of course you have a choice! No one is putting a wand to your head!”

Regulus shook his head vehemently, his eyes squinted tightly shut. “I can’t do that to my mother, to my family! Not after what Sirius did to us! I can’t let them down like that, Severus. I won’t!” He clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Then wait,” Severus suggested. “Tell you mother you’re not quite ready. Tell her you want to enter during the summer, with me. This is all happening very fast. Tell her you need a little time.”

But Regulus only shook his head. “She won’t understand.”

“She might.”

Regulus laughed derisively. “Where the hell were you this summer, Sev? You know how my mother is. You know she’ll never agree to that! You know how she is!”

“But if you talk to her in a mature way…”

“YOU DON’T GET IT!” Regulus roared. “If I even suggest in the slightest that I’m not ready, she’ll turn it into treachery and then I’ll end up out on my arse along with my stupid brother!” Regulus buried his head in his hands again and wept, leaving Severus helpless and puzzled.

“Did Sirius talk to you?” Severus asked.

Regulus gulped back a sob and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t fucking get rid of him! And now he’s promised to make a huge scene when Mother comes tomorrow. I can’t take that! I’d rather just go quickly and get it over with!”

“What did he say to you?”

“That I can run away and live with him at the Potters. Can you imagine? You think I’d be caught dead in that hole? And with a couple of blood-traitors?”

“Has Dumbledore talked to you?” Severus asked.

“Him? As if! I’ve avoided him all week, the stupid old git! I may be brat, but I know better than to let myself get cornered by that old freak.”

Severus sat back in his chair, fiddling with the ragged him of his nightshirt. “You want me to be there? When your mum arrives tomorrow?”

Regulus’ features suddenly brightened somewhat. “Would you? You would be there for me?”

“I could talk to your mother for you, you know…”

Regulus scowled. “Right. Because you’re so personable.”

The comment stung Severus sharply. “You don’t have to be a jerk, Regulus! I’m just trying to help you out.”

“And I’m telling you that my mother won’t move an inch on this, no matter what! Only the Dark Lord would have any power over her, Severus.” He swooned a little from too much whiskey. “There is one thing you can do for me. You can keep Sirius away from me.”

“If I can’t keep your mother away, what makes you think I can hold back your brother?”

Regulus chuckled, forcing a smile that Severus knew pained him. “You’re a good friend,” he said. “I love you, man. Seriously.”

Severus frowned. “Let’s not get sticky about this, Black. Look, do you believe in the cause?”

“Of course I do!” Regulus replied, affronted by the suggestion.

“And you believe in the Dark Lord and his aims?”

“Severus, what are you suggesting?” Regulus retorted. “I am no blood-traitor! I am not disloyal! I have full confidence in the Dark Lord, Severus. It’s just…” He sighed.

Severus patted Regulus on the arm. “Then trust what you know,” he said. “Trust the Dark Lord’s judgement. He thinks you’re ready and he wants you to enter now. But if you have serious reservations, then you simply must follow that instinct and somehow make it clear that you wish to wait a few months. You wouldn’t be betraying anyone by doing that, Regulus, and it might make you happier in the long run.”

Throughout the following day, Severus rarely let Regulus out of his sight—then again, neither did Sirius. All day long it was as if the two of them were playing some strange game of tug-of-war, however, it finally struck Severus that they might not be on opposing sides. Regulus’ fears deeply disturbed Severus, and Sirius constant presence only made him feel worse as he bitterly recalled their last argument. As desperately as he wanted to do something, Severus found himself utterly paralysed.

Then again, this wasn’t his choice, but Regulus’. And if Regulus was willing to go through with getting the Dark Mark, then who was Severus to complain? He strove to be ambivalent about the whole situation, that is, until he remembered that perhaps ambivalent was the wrong word choice. The more he tried to be emotionally neutral, the more torn…ambivalent…he became.

* * * * *

Evening approached, and so did the arrival of Mrs. Black, to take Regulus away with her, to the lair of the Dark Lord for this grand occasion. Regulus sat at the table in the Great Hall with Severus and the other guys, but he didn’t eat a thing. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on his brother, glaring at him from the Gryffindor table. His hands trembled slightly, but he did nothing to conceal them.

“Bastard,” Regulus muttered.

A First Year Hufflepuff approached the Slytherin table cautiously, as if approaching a cage filled with serpents, and shakily handed a rolled parchment to Regulus. He unrolled the parchment, read it, and stood up.

“Time?” Cassius asked.

Regulus nodded. “See you guys,” he said, his voice strained. Severus stood up as well.

“Good luck, man,” Evan said brightly. “Don’t forget to tell us every detail!”

Regulus nodded furtively but didn’t reply, he and Severus making their way to the Entrance Hall, where Mrs. Black stood there, waiting. As usual, she was elegantly attired, though Severus noticed that she did not wear her usual pin at her throat. Rather, she wore a gem-encrusted pin in the shape of the school seal. Very politic, Severus thought.

“Severus!” she said warmly. “So lovely of you to see Regulus off like this.”

Regulus paused, looking sheepishly at the ground. 

“Hi, Mum,” he said quietly, digging his hands into his pockets.

Mrs. Black pulled him into a gentle hug and gave her son a little kiss on the cheek. “Well, my baby, are you ready to go?” She beamed and poked him on the nose, as if he were a five year-old going off to his first day of kindergarten.

Regulus threw Severus a quick, troubled glance, then turned his gaze back to his mother. Severus waited with anxious anticipation to see what Regulus would say to his mother.

“Yeah,” Regulus said, his strained voice barely above a whisper. “I’m ready.” 

Severus’ face fell, but Mrs. Black grinned warmly, that is, until her eyes caught sight of Sirius, striding furiously towards the three of them, with James Potter following behind. He angrily shoved Severus aside and grabbed Regulus by the arm. Regulus quickly jerked his arm out of his brother’s grasp, but Sirius grabbed at him again. Severus lunged forward to intervene, but Potter held him back.

“Stay out of this, Snivellus,” he growled in Severus’ ear.

“Regulus, you don’t have to do this,” Sirius begged.

“Keep away from us!” Mrs. Black snapped shrilly.

“Shut up, you vile, evil bitch!” Sirius retorted. “Regulus, come with me now!”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Regulus shot back.

“Come with me, my dear,” Mrs. Black said to Regulus, reaching for his hand.

But Sirius took hold of Regulus with both hands, pulling him hard towards himself. Mrs. Black reacted instantly, sending a sharp stinging spell at Sirius, which made him stumble back, howling with pain. In that same instant, Mrs. Black put her arm around Regulus shoulders and tugged at him to go with her.

“No! Regulus, you don’t have to!” Sirius insisted, rubbing his shoulder where the spell had hit him.

But by then, Regulus was already walking, albeit slowly, with his mother, towards the doors out of the castle. Sirius lunged after them, still shouting and pleading with Regulus.

“You can’t do this, Regulus!” he shouted. “They’ll own you! They’ll destroy you! You know they will, Regulus! Please!” But as he watched with anguished eyes as his brother continued to leave, Sirius rounded on Severus, who had finally freed himself from Potter’s grip. “Go after him, Snape!”

“He’s made his choice,” Severus said plainly.

Sirius’ eyes flashed. “Well that’s not good enough! You’re his friend, Snape! You’ve got to get to them before the leave the grounds! They’ll disapparate and then it’ll be all over for him! Please!”

“Nothing either of us say will change things in the least,” Severus replied. “You know your mother’s mind.”

Sirius snarled at Severus, his face contorted in pain. “You stupid, useless…” 

And with that, Sirius tore out the doors, pelting down the quad, racing towards his mother and brother. Potter ran after them all, but Severus stayed put, his heart pounding at the ugly scene. What did Sirius mean by useless? Severus had talked to Regulus, tried to convince him to wait, even offered to intervene if necessary. And did Sirius Black ask about any of that? NO! What who did he think he was?

As Severus returned to the Great Hall, many curious eyes followed him—undoubtedly, many people could hear the commotion in the Entrance Hall, but Severus decided to play it cool and ignore them all. Even when he sat down with his friends, he strove to put those very ugly minutes behind him.

“What was all that shouting?” Cassius asked, concerned and even a little frightened.

“Gryffindor meddling in important affairs,” Severus replied. “Pass the salt, Alecto.”

“But what was it all about?” Evan echoed.

Severus shrugged. “Brother stuff, I suppose. Sirius Black seems to want everyone to be a blood-traitor.”

Cassius smiled wistfully. “It’s so cool. I wonder what it’s like, receiving the Mark. Gods, I wish I were there to see!”

“When’s your time?” Severus asked him.

“Father’s not sure yet. Probably not before I’m nineteen. He wants me to work at the Ministry first, you know, for strategic purposes.”

“And they’ll hire an Avery?” Severus asked skeptically. “Isn’t your family rather notorious?”

“We know certain individuals who will see to it I’m hired,” Cassius said. But then, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “We have people everywhere, Severus. We have people in every level of the community, and there will come a time when we’ll have someone right here at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord will see to that, that his own will rule here.”

But no one heard his last comment, due to a rather violent distraction. Sirius Black had returned, breathless, one eye bruised somehow, teeth bared.

“YOU!” he bellowed, and at once, he grabbed Severus by the back of his robes and with tremendous force, jerked him right off the bench and onto the floor. Before Severus could recover, Sirius was already on top of him, fists flying, pounding Severus’ face, chest, arms and head, again and again. The attack only stopped when a whole team of seven Gryffindors and Slytherins managed to pull Sirius off of the now bloodied and dazed Severus, and even then, Sirius continued to kick out his feet and struggle against the prefects and Seventh years who had now pinned him to the floor. Four teachers rushed forward, along with Madame Pomfrey, the Healer, and Professor Dumbledore.

A huge crowd had now gathered, all shouting and screaming and even crying as students worked hard to keep Sirius from attacking Severus all over again. Immediately, Madame Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn placed themselves protectively in front of Severus, whose broken nose bled profusely. Evan thrust a handkerchief under Severus’ bleeding nose.

“Let’s get him up,” Madame Pomfrey instructed Professor Slughorn, who looked a bit ashen at the sight of so much blood. With a one-two-three, they got Severus to his feet and helped him out the door while the other professors dealt with the still wild Sirius Black.

The sounds of “you killed my brother!” rang in Severus’ ears as he left the Great Hall and headed towards the Hospital Wing.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Snape!” Severus heard Sirius bellow just as they mounted the stairs. “You’re DEAD!”

* * * * *

Healing Severus’ broken nose and many other injuries took only an hour or so, but Madame Pomfrey insisted that he stay the night in the Hospital Wing, just for safe keeping.

“You poor dear,” she said, tucking him into bed and bringing him a mug of cocoa.

Severus didn’t sleep for even a minute that night, still shaken from Sirius’ attack. How could Sirius blame him? And why should he think that Regulus would be destroyed or even killed just because he joined the organisation? It seemed unfair for Sirius to make such a judgement about the organisation, and even more unfair to put any blame on Severus. That Sirius Black dared to accuse him of malevolence after everything he had done infuriated Severus. Who did he think he was? Wasn’t Sirius the one who tried to kill Severus or at least turning him into a werewolf?

“Bloody hypocrite,” Severus seethed under his breath. “It’s not my fault.”

The following morning, Severus was greeted with a visit from a visibly troubled Professor Dumbledore, flanked by Professors Slughorn and McGonagall, all looking very grim, very stern. Severus wondered whether they’d blame him, too. Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed, taking a careful look at Severus’ still bruised face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked him gently.

“Fine.”

“You took quite a beating yesterday,” Dumbledore said. “I am very sorry about this, Mr. Snape. Truly shocked by Mr. Black’s behaviour.”

“Incidentally,” Professor McGonagall said, “steps are being taken right now to work out a fair punishment for Mr. Black. He is in isolation right now and until we come to a resolution, he is being secluded from the rest of the school population.”

“Mr. Snape, Severus,” Dumbledore went on, “the three of us wish to take a statement from you regarding the beating, however, considering the very early hour and the fact that you likely haven’t gotten much sleep, I won’t ask you about it now. I will, however, expect you in my office right after lunch today, and I am excusing you from lessons for the next three days.”

“But what sort of statement do you mean, sir?” Severus asked. “The issue is pretty straightforward. Sirius Black attacked me and beat the crap out of me. What more is there?”

Dumbledore nodded. “That is what we need to discuss.”


	19. The New Death Eater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Regulus didn’t eat much that night, whereas Severus and the others couldn’t get enough dinner. The food was particularly good that night—roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, fresh vegetables, treacle tarts, cauldron cakes. It surprised and dismayed Severus to see Regulus take no interest in the feast. Normally, Regulus would have eaten seconds and thirds, then tried to steal food off of his friends’ plates. But tonight, he sat rather listlessly, often staring off into space, saying little more than to hurl the occasional insult at his brother’s expense or to bully an unsuspecting Hufflepuff._

Severus decided to take Dumbledore up on his offer and remain in the privacy of the Hospital Wing for the rest of the morning. His bed was next to an open window, and Severus rather enjoyed the feel of the morning breeze and soft sun’s rays on his skin as he lay there so comfortably. He also enjoyed the attentions of Madame Pomfrey—not since his mother’s rejection had Severus felt so…cared for, looked after. He wondered how his mother was, and he also wondered whether she had been contacted about yesterday’s incident. Severus supposed she had.

But would she do anything? After all, she’d thrown him out, practically disowned him for the crime of being Regulus Black’s friend. Well, he admitted to himself, it was more than that. She objected to the Dark Lord and to the organisation, to the point of turning away her only son. The rejection had caused Severus more pain than he was ever willing to admit, even to himself. He had done so much for her, gotten her through the terrible trauma after she had killed Tobias. How could she cast him out when she herself had killed a man? It wasn’t fair.

As much as Severus wanted to put it all in the past, he couldn’t, especially now. More than anything, he wanted his mother’s touch—she was the only one who could ever really soothe all the bubbling rage he so often felt, and now that he had been so badly injured by someone he loathed, he needed his mother all the more.

How would she react? Would she come to him or would she simply tell Dumbledore that Severus could take care of himself? The answer became abundantly clear by one o’clock that afternoon, when Severus arrived at the Headmaster’s office. Along with the professors, Potter’s father had shown up, presumably to speak for Sirius. Looking at the older Potter, Severus quickly saw the resemblance, the spectacles, the dark, mussed hair, the smug look in his sarcastic eyes. Severus squared his shoulders and entered the grand office.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said kindly—too kindly perhaps. “Please, come in and sit with us.” He indicated seven chairs circled around a small round table, at which all the others already sat—McGonagall, Slughorn, the two Potters and a still angry Sirius Black. Potter senior reached across the table to shake hands with a very distrustful Severus.

“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Snape,” Mr. Potter said pleasantly. “I’m here on Sirius’ behalf, of course, but also as a neutral party.”

Severus gave him a cynical glare, then turned his attention to Dumbledore.

“The purpose of this meeting is to get to the bottom of yesterday’s brawl,” Dumbledore said. “As I have already stated to Sirius, this sort of behavior is absolutely unacceptable, and to be quite honest, I see it as a pattern of continual bullying and aggression on the part of you, Sirius, and you, James.”

“Sir,” James said, “Sirius was only sticking up for his brother…”

But Dumbledore silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I hardly call what he did merely sticking up for someone. What you did, Sirius, went far beyond that, and in fact, Mr. Snape has every right to pursue criminal action against you. Considering how many eyewitnesses there were to your attack, and considering that you are already seventeen, you could do time in Azkaban for what you did.”

“I’m sure we’re not here to send anyone to prison, Albus,” Mr. Potter said.

“That is not up to me,” Dumbledore replied. “That decision lies with Severus alone.”

Everyone turned to Severus just then, waiting for him to speak. Severus gritted his teeth, his mind racing, suddenly consumed with the idea of sending Sirius Black to Azkaban, of letting him endure the agony of the Dementors for years to come. His throat tightened with anticipation.

“I think emotions are running high right now,” McGonagall said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “It might be best to calm down first, before any such charges are considered.”

“He still needs to be punished, Minerva,” Slughorn said. “I will not stand by and allow my boys to be treated like this. The general prejudice against Slytherins…”

“Be reasonable, Horace!” Mr. Potter interjected. “No one is saying that Sirius is innocent nor that he won’t be punished!”

“Is that so, sir?” Severus snapped. “That’ll be a first.”

“Mr. Snape, I don’t think you’re being quite fair,” McGonagall lectured.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Severus replied sharply, “these two have gotten away with constant bullying and baiting for way too long! They humiliated me publically and what did they get? A slap on the wrist! Black tries to get me killed by his werewolf friend and you’re trying to tell me that he’s now acting out of nobility? Forgive me, Professor, but I’m just not seeing it!”

“Mr. Snape, we understand how upset you are…” she continued.

“You don’t get even one shred of how upset I am, ma’am!” he retorted. “They run around and bully people, not just me, but oh, they’re noble and divine Gryffindors, so it’s okay! Just put them in detention and then let them go out and do the same thing all over again!”

“You stupid jerk, Snape,” Sirius barked. “We’re not here because of some stupid prank that you can’t seem to get over! We’re here because of my brother, and you know that!”

Severus jumped up. “I know no such thing, Black! What I know is that your brother made a choice and that you took YOUR failure as a brother and turned it on me!”

“You’re his friend!”

“And you lived with him for sixteen years!” Severus bellowed, his fists clenched tight. “Why didn’t you protect him earlier if that’s what you thought he needed? Why didn’t you stop that Malfoy pervert from manhandling him day after day like a sex toy? Why didn’t you keep him away from your cousins if you thought they were so evil? That is not my fault just because you’re so busy running around with Potter that you neglected your brother and let him down!”

Dumbledore put a hand on Severus’ trembling shoulder. “Let’s all sit down.”

Severus sat and eventually, Sirius did, too.

Dumbledore wrote something out on a piece of parchment, which he then rolled up and tied with a piece of black ribbon. 

“The muggles have something called a restraining order,” he explained. “A restraining order restricts a person from coming within a certain number of feet of their victim.” 

Dumbledore tapped the scroll with his wand, and then handed it to Professor Slughorn. “This parchment is such an order, and will be enforced magically. Sirius, you are to keep no less than fifty yards from Mr. Snape at all times. I will adjust your schedule so that you are not in the same classes together. Mr. Snape, your classes will not be changed since you are the offended party. Any failure of you to follow this order, Sirius, will result in very dire magical consequences for you.”

“It’s not enough,” Severus seethed.

“I am not finished,” Dumbledore said impatiently. “Sirius, your suspension will continue for the next two weeks, in which you will be confined to isolation. James or Lily may bring you books, and the Elf will bring you food, but otherwise, you will have no contact with any other student or adult until your release.”

“Albus, I think that’s a bit harsh,” Mr. Potter said sourly.

“And by comparison to Azkaban, this is nothing,” Dumbledore replied. “Were he under the age of seventeen, then I would agree with you, but he is an adult, and must be treated as one. He has shown extreme violence and he has threatened murder. I am willing to say that he is young and reckless, but I also think that he poses a serious threat to Mr. Snape right now. That may change over time, but for now, this must be done.”

* * * * *

Logistics had to be worked out so that the restraining order would be kept and followed. The Gryffindor table was moved to one end of the Great Hall, while the Slytherin table was moved to the other far end. Sirius’ entire schedule was altered so that he was not in the same classroom as Severus. This meant that he had to drop Potions and study it independently if he wanted to take the NEWT in the Spring. It also meant that he had one more thing to blame Severus for, creating further antipathy.

Severus was less than satisfied by the arrangement—the thought of Sirius rotting away in Azkaban for years had been so pleasant to him, but he supposed that the two weeks of isolation would be a little start. Besides, what concerned him more was the fact that by the eleventh of September, Regulus had not yet returned to school. He worried just a little, that perhaps Regulus had changed his mind at the last moment and then had to run away, much as Sirius had done.

Where was Regulus Black? Severus had kept Regulus’ confidence about his fears, so that Cassius and Evan and Mulciber had no idea—Severus figured it was better that way, first, for Regulus’ privacy, but more importantly, to give himself a unique, inside look at all these inner workings of the organisation and its members.

And then he showed up, out of nowhere, just as dinner the night of the twelfth began. Severus felt a tap on his shoulder, and to his relief, a grinning Regulus stood right behind him. He looked…different, a little strange actually, definitely different from how he had looked before. It wasn’t that Regulus had somehow lost his usual handsome appearance or anything. No…it was his eyes that were different. That wicked little glint he always had was now gone, replaced by nothing. Severus worried.

“Keeping the boys in check?” Regulus asked, his voice almost cheerful. Almost.

“The boys are fine. It’s your stupid brother that’s been a handful.”

Regulus frowned darkly, a look Severus had never seen in his friend before. “What did he do?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Beat the shit out of him!” Cassius crowed.

Evan laughed. “Now he’s in the school jail until he stops threatening to kill Severus!”

Regulus glared at him. “It’s not funny, Rosier! Severus, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Dumbledore is actually working to keep us far apart, so as far as I’m concerned, I’m ready to move on.” He looked over Regulus’ features carefully, furrowing his brow. “What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” Regulus asked.

“You alright?”

Regulus scoffed at that. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just look…I don’t know…different.”

Regulus chuckled. “I’m just tired is all. Seriously, Sev, I’m good.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’ll show it to you guys later!”

Cassius’ eyes widened. “So you really got it?”

Regulus grinned and nodded.

“Did it hurt?” Evan asked.

“Does it move?” Cassius asked.

“What is your role here now that you have it?” Severus asked.

Regulus gave him a wink. “Always looking ahead, aren’t you, Sev? We’ll discuss it later.” Just quickly, the momentary twinkle in his eye disappearing into darkness. His features fell just then, but he straightened his shoulders ran his fingers casually through his black waves.

He didn’t eat much that night, whereas Severus and the others couldn’t get enough dinner. The food was particularly good that night—roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, fresh vegetables, treacle tarts, cauldron cakes. It surprised and dismayed Severus to see Regulus take no interest in the feast. Normally, Regulus would have eaten seconds and thirds, then tried to steal food off of his friends’ plates. But tonight, he sat rather listlessly, often staring off into space, saying little more than to hurl the occasional insult at his brother’s expense or to bully an unsuspecting Hufflepuff.

But later that night, as the five friends gathered in a close circle in a dark corner of the Slytherin common room, Regulus suddenly became like his old self, animated and charming and fully entertaining. He described everyone at the ritual with almost graphic detail, including the pinched look on Abraxas Malfoy’s face during the entire evening.

“Why would he be in such a pissy mood?” Evan asked.

“He thinks I’m too young,” Regulus said.

“So it’s not because you’re queer?” Mulciber asked with a smirk.

Before Severus could speak up on Regulus’ behalf, Regulus himself jumped to his feet, fists clenched. “Shut the fuck up, Damien!” Regulus shot back furiously. “Don’t talk about what you don’t know!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Regulus?” Mulciber growled. “Everyone knows you take it in the arse.”

Enraged, Regulus lunged forward at Mulciber, his fist drawn back to punch him out. Just then, Severus and Evan grabbed him and pulled him back, struggling to restrain him while Mulciber sat back and laughed.

“You are way out of order, Damien!” Evan sneered.

“Mulciber, you can either sit here and let Regulus tell his story, or you can get the fuck away from us and let your betters take charge of business,” Severus said sternly.

Mulciber reddened slightly. “Hey, come on, Reg, I was just kidding. Seriously man, I’m sorry.”

Regulus glared at him momentarily but soon, at the others’ urgings, returned to his story.

“Of course, I can’t say much about the actual ritual because I had to swear to the Dark Lord to keep it a secret. Plus, Mother says it’s different for everyone. What I did isn’t what you guys will do necessarily, I mean, it might, but it depends.”

“On what?” Cassius asked.

“On what the Dark Lord wishes you to fight against within yourself.”

“Like weakness?” Evan asked.

“Any quality that might mean disloyalty. He wants to weed that out so that your loyalty is assured,” Regulus explained.

Mulciber shrugged. “That doesn’t sound so bad, I mean, my loyalty is total. No one is going to make me turn from him, no matter what.”

“Same here,” Cassius echoed.

“Me, too,” Evan said.

Severus remained silent for a moment. “The cause before anything,” he said darkly. “Through the Dark Lord we can have the whole world and everything within it.”

Regulus shut his eyes at that, as if taken by some unnamed surge of passion. A tear trickled down the side of his face, as if he were moved by a spiritual experience.

“Show us the Mark,” Mulciber said greedily.

Regulus dried the side of his face, then, scooting into the centre of the little circle, gingerly pulled up the sleeve, baring his left arm. Everyone gasped at the sight. The Mark stood there prominently, proudly on Regulus white skin, freshly carved, almost sparkling with grand promises and extravagant fantasies of conquest and bloodshed and a new, pure vision of the wizarding world.

“Incredible,” Cassius whispered.

“It’s beautiful,” Evan breathed reverently.

Severus couldn’t say a word—the Mark mesmerised him, called to the core of his passions and unmet longings, threatening to dissolve him into bitter, hungry tears. He was so close to this glory, so near to grasping everything he wanted and yet, the space of time seemed so vast, too long, painfully distant. Without thinking, Severus reached out to touch it, only to be stunned back into reality when Regulus jerked his arm back.

“It’s still fresh, mate,” he said. “It hurts a little.”

“How long does it take to heal?” Evan asked.

Regulus shrugged. “Lucius says his still sort of hurts, and he’s had it for a while now. But it…it sort of takes over you, you know? It’s more than just a mark on the skin, I mean, it’s deeper than that.”

“That’s what my Dad says,” Cassius said. “He says you’re never quite the same once you get the Mark.”

“Damn right!” Mulciber crowed. “You’re better, stronger, more powerful! The muggles won’t know what hit ‘em when they’re face to face with a full fledged Death Eater!”

Severus smirked, his eyes totally focused on the Mark. One day soon, he’d have a Mark of his own, and then things would really change. He couldn’t wait.


	20. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The sound of shuffling feet in slippers distracted Severus from his racing thoughts—he shut his books and prepared to return to the dorm and go to bed, but when a very distraught Regulus stumbled through the door, Severus could only stare in utter shock. The faint waft of Old Ogden’s tickled his nose. Severus frowned at Regulus’ tousled hair and gaunt appearance._
> 
> _“Hey, Regulus,” he said cautiously._
> 
> _Regulus waved furtively, then collapsed onto the sofa with a loud thwack. He sighed deeply. Severus sat at the end of the sofa, at Regulus’ feet._
> 
> _“You gonna share that firewhiskey?” he asked._
> 
> _“Drank it all,” Regulus slurred. He burped._

Finally, peace. The cool touch of the night breeze on his cheek, wafting in from the open window briefly distracted Severus from his studies. He set his stack of parchments aside and rubbed his tired eyes, his mind filled with too many thoughts and musings and theories.

Despite all the goings on regarding Regulus and Sirius and the organisation, Severus didn’t lose touch with the fact that he still had work to do. Obviously he had much schoolwork to complete—as a Seventh Year, the work was much more challenging and all geared towards exams in the Spring. But Severus had started new work of his own, work that came from his deep desire to push the envelope regarding how magic is done.

In Potions, for example, Severus had quickly grown frustrated with the seemingly backwards and time consuming ways that students were taught about how to brew a potion correctly. The lengthy and cumbersome directions seems counterproductive to Severus, and he had found new ways to obtain the same or better results, whether it be to use silver instead of wood, or a larger cauldron or even preparing the ingredients in more efficient ways. 

As a result of his experiments and study, Severus had gone far beyond any of his peers, including Lily. There was a time when he would have been happy to share his ideas with Lily, but of course, those days were long gone. It bothered him increasingly that she had rejected him in favour of the likes of Potter, but then again, Severus wondered a little. On what grounds could he still hate Potter, considering that he had saved his life not so long ago? Yet every time he saw them in the corridors or in class or in the Great Hall, petting and snogging and holding hands, that black stone of resentment tore at Severus, digging into his stomach bitterly.

The sound of shuffling feet in slippers distracted Severus from his racing thoughts—he shut his books and prepared to return to the dorm and go to bed, but when a very distraught Regulus stumbled through the door, Severus could only stare in utter shock. The faint waft of Old Ogden’s tickled his nose. Severus frowned at Regulus’ tousled hair and gaunt appearance.

“Hey, Regulus,” he said cautiously.

Regulus waved furtively, then collapsed onto the sofa with a loud thwack. He sighed deeply. Severus sat at the end of the sofa, at Regulus’ feet.

“You gonna share that firewhiskey?” he asked.

“Drank it all,” Regulus slurred. He burped.

“Still celebrating?”

Regulus laughed joylessly. “Yeah, sure.” He grinned, though he had trouble focusing his eyes. “I finally did it, you know.”

“It?”

Regulus winked. “You know. It.”

“As in?”

Regulus nodded. “And not just with Lucius, though he started me off.”

Severus frowned at the description. “Started you off? What the hell is that?”

“I got a bunch of guys,” he said excitedly, almost proudly. “It was crazy! Hands everywhere, just…incredible!” But when Severus didn’t grin back, Regulus’ face fell. He turned away.

“What happened, Regulus?” Severus asked sternly. “What went on out there?”

“Told you, it’s a secret,” Regulus replied. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Are you okay?”

Regulus turned away again. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m great, I…yeah, it’s good.”

“Are you sure?”

Regulus sat up sharply, his eyes flashing. “I don’t need this right now,” he muttered. Swinging his legs around, he got to his feet, though the alcohol made him swoon a bit. “Good night, Snape,” he said firmly, then staggered back to the dorm, leaving a puzzled Severus to wonder what was going on.

* * * * *

A terrible temptation washed over Severus over the next several days, though he knew that if he went through with it, it would cause a lot of trouble for more than himself. It was impossible to talk to Regulus these days, either because Regulus was grandstanding before everyone or because he was brooding so darkly that Severus didn’t dare go near him. It was a long shot that Sirius might know what was going on with Regulus, but after a couple of weeks of watching his friend’s strange behaviour, Severus thought it might be worthwhile to figure out what Sirius knew.

Getting to Sirius, however, proved to be a challenge, considering the restraining order that was still in place. Severus was relieved to be free from Sirius, but at the same time, now that he really needed to talk to him, the restraining order had become a burden. Then again…

There were two possibilities. One meant getting Lily involved, and he wasn’t so sure she’d be willing to cooperate, especially since she was too busy lip wrestling with Potter these days. The other possibility was a clever use of Legilimency, though Severus wasn’t sure whether it worked from such a long distance. This was important, though, and not just because of what seemed to be happening to Regulus. Severus was now concerned for himself as well. Would he go through this same emotional tumult or would he be stronger than that? He remembered all the doubts Regulus had expressed to him, and he also remembered Regulus’ tearful breakdown the night before he left. He worried and wondered.

That night at dinner, Severus positioned himself at the Slytherin table so that he was in direct view of Sirius Black, all the way across the massive hall. Throughout the meal, Severus kept his eyes fixed on Black, trying to determine what was going on in his head. So far, nothing. Too much interference from the other students who kept passing to and fro, each one breaking the connection Severus tried to solidify. Finally, he gave up, though it was not the last time he saw Black that night, at least at a distance.

Regulus was back to his usual self, sort of. He cracked crass jokes and mocked Amycus Carrow and threw peas at some Hufflepuff Second Year that he had pushed into the lake last term. Most of the Slytherins found that hilarious. As he continued to joke around, Regulus’ voice grew louder, more boisterous and aggressive. Though he grinned and laughed along with the others, Severus saw no joy behind the bright smile. All he saw was darkness and confusion, leaving him with little idea of what to do or how to react.

Instinctively, Severus tried to dismiss his concerns about Regulus. After all, Regulus had chosen this for himself, so if he was too much of a pussy to handle it, that was his fault. He knew this moment was coming, and besides, as Sirius pointed out, Regulus had grown up around these people, so it shouldn’t have been a shock that they were a pretty rough crowd. Even Severus knew that, and in truth, he was a relative stranger to their group.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a certain stab of pain as he watched Regulus very rapidly fall apart, despite his best efforts to conceal his condition. Severus had grown to like Regulus very much, so to see him like this caused a riot of clashing emotions that he wasn’t so sure he could sort out. It frustrated him to be so out of control of his emotional life like this—the one thing that Severus could count on was his ability to keep his emotions in careful order, so as not to interfere with his plans and his goals. With his goals set so high, he felt that he couldn’t afford to let down his guard for a single moment, and yet, as Regulus continued to decline, Severus could barely thing of anything else.

A note. Yes, that would work. A note sent via Lily to Sirius. But what to say? If he let on that he was afraid for Regulus, then this would only provide Sirius with more fuel to bully him with. So maybe a note was a bad idea. A confrontation was out, but maybe a confrontation with someone else…back to Lily. At least he could talk to her somewhat, unlike Potter.

Severus caught up with Lily after Transfiguration class one day in late October, the day before Halloween. She had her arms filled with books to return to the Library, so Severus decided to intervene.

“Let me take some of those,” he said to her casually.

Lily quickly turned her body away from him. “I’m fine.”

He reached for some of the books, but again, she turned away.

“I’m going the same way, and besides, I have a question for you,” Severus said. “Come on, give me just one book so I don’t look like a total jerk.”

Lily smirked. “You always look like a jerk.” She handed him a book called _The History of Owls in North America_.

“Funny. Why are you reading about owls?”

“I’m starting an aviary.”

He chuckled at that. “Sounds brilliant.” Together they climbed the stairs heading for the Library.

“Actually, it’s for a charm I’m working on. Extra credit for Flitwick.”

Severus raised his eyebrows curiously. “Really? Anything I should know?”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “You probably already know. You know everything, Sev.”

He frowned at that. “No, I don’t. You seen your canine friend these days?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because his brother is having a nervous breakdown.”

Lily stopped in her tracks, just a few steps before the Library entrance. “What’s going on? Poor kid.”

“He’s not himself any more, and I can’t figure out why.”

She rolled her eyes derisively. “Oh come on, Sev, you know damn well why.”

“I really don’t, Lily.”

“I’d think that becoming a Death Eater would be enough to screw you up for life,” she said flippantly. “You ought to ponder on that before you make the same mistake.”

“No one in the organisation is like that, Lily,” he retorted sharply.

“Please! They’re all a nest of lunatics! Evil, disgusting lunatics! That you can stomach them and sleep with them is an amazing feat, Severus. And now you’re worried about Regulus?”

Furious, Severus thrust the book on owls back into Lily’s hand. “You know, all I wanted to do was express concern for someone I consider a friend! I don’t need a fucking sermon right now!” With that, Severus turned on his heel and swept away, muttering obscenities under his breath all the way.

* * * * *

“Sev!”

A tense hand jostled Severus’ shoulder, kicking him out of his dream world. Severus turned around to see who had ruined what had been a very pleasant dream involving himself, Lily and a soft, luxurious bed. He groaned at the sight of a stunned, terrified Regulus Black.

“My gods, Regulus! What do you want at this hour?” Severus whispered harshly.

Regulus bent forward, his trembling hands twisting the belt of his bathrobe nervously. “Can I get in with you?”

“What?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” His voice shook a little, as if he were near tears.

“You’re in a room with four other guys! Get into one of their beds! Sleep with Carrow!” Severus turned over to go back to sleep, but Regulus shook him by the shoulder again.

“Carrow farts in his sleep,” Regulus whined. “Come, Sev, please?”

Severus muttered murderously under his breath, then angrily threw off part of the duvet. As Regulus gratefully climbed into bed, Severus turned to him, pointing his finger at him dangerously. “If you so much as touch me with your pinky, I’ll throw you on the floor!”

Regulus gasped helplessly, then nodded. “Yeah…that’s fine. It’s just…can’t we talk?”

“Have you heard of nature’s newest invention, called morning?”

“I can’t sleep!”

“I’d be able to if you’d shut up!”

“Shut up, guys!” Mulciber called out from his bed. “Regulus, stop buggering Severus!”

Another boy snorted, but an angry Severus waved his wand in Mulciber’s direction, muttering, “Muffliato!”

Regulus stared. “Nothing happened.”

“He can’t hear us now, idiot.” Severus sat up in bed and propped his pillows behind his head. “OK, so you want to talk. So talk.”

Regulus sat up next to Severus and sighed. He picked at a scab on his elbow, his mind searching for the right words. “I know I’ve been acting…different these days.”

Severus nodded. “You can say that again. What happened out there, Regulus?”

“I told you, I can’t tell you. I swore to the Dark Lord, and you can’t just break your word to him, I mean, that would be a disaster!”

“Why were you gone so long?” Severus asked, now curious.

“Recovering mostly.”

Severus chuckled at that. “Recovering? What exactly happened to you?”

“Too much alcohol and too much sex.” He blushed. “It wasn’t exactly what I expected,” Regulus confessed.

“Better or worse?”

“Different. It hurt. I didn’t know it would hurt like that. Then again, Lucius was pretty…well, he wasn’t exactly delicate about it all.”

Severus shuddered a bit. “Your mother didn’t object?”

“She couldn’t. Not any more.” Regulus sighed. “I wish I were like you, Sev. You have no idea.”

“You’re delusional.”

Regulus stared at his hands. “I killed someone.”

Severus wanted to gasp in shock but refrained, suppressing that harrowing feeling of dread and instead, struggling to take on an air of disinterestedness. “And that’s news?” he said glibly.

“I know something’s wrong with me, Sev!”

“Regulus, you had to know that you would be asked to kill people. This is war, after all. What did you think would happen?”

“I know it’s war! I know I’m required to kill! I know my duty! The Dark Lord doesn’t make casual requests of any of us, so when he says kill, there’s a big reason for it, and if I don’t, then it’s a sign of my own selfishness. But…it shouldn’t be getting to me like this! I’m telling you, Severus, something is wrong with me!”

Severus rubbed his tired eyes. “I hardly know what to say to you, Regulus. I’m shocked, to be honest.”

“That I had to kill?”

“That it’s apparently burdened your conscience. I thought better of you.”

Regulus hung his head. “Do I disappoint you?”

“I should be,” Severus replied.

“But?”

“It’s your first time.”

Regulus lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. “I remember that woman you tortured this summer,” he said dreamily. “You were so cool and collected when you were tearing out her fingernails. Gods, Sev, that was so amazing! Why can’t I be like you?”

Severus frowned. “You don’t want to be like me. Trust me on that.”

“Do you hate me for being weak?” Regulus asked desperately.

“How can I?” Severus quipped. “I’m using you for a summer residence and all that free food.”

Regulus threw his arms around a stunned Severus’ neck and clasped him tight. “Thank you, Severus.”

Quickly, Severus detached Regulus from his person and sat back. “Show a little dignity, Black.”

* * * * *

The following morning, a very changed Regulus Black bounded into the Great Hall, plopped down between Severus and Mulciber and helped himself to massive amounts of bangers and eggs and tomatoes and toast. He ate like a wild beast, shoveling down every last crumb of food until there was nothing to do but lick the plate clean. To Severus’ relief, Regulus resisted the urge.

A sudden commotion and a new figure distracted everyone’s attention—both Severus and Regulus craned their necks to see what was going on and who had entered. The sight of an almost feral Bellatrix Lestrange made Regulus grin widely—she slinked towards the Slytherin table, dressed from top to toe in glittering charcoal grey robes, deftly buttoned to show just enough cleavage to make all the boys take a second and third look at her.

“Hello, boys,” she purred, sliding her long, slender hands down Severus’ shoulders and arms.

Mulciber, Evan and Cassius all jumped to their feet. “Hello, Mrs. Lestrange,” they said in unison.

Bellatrix smirked. “Honestly! Mrs. Lestrange?” She took a seat between Regulus and Severus and took a drink from Severus’ half full glass of pumpkin juice, smiling kittenishly.

“What are you doing here, Bella?” Regulus asked.

“I’m here to fuck Severus’ brains out,” she replied flatly. Cassius snorted. Mulciber spat out a mouthful of coffee, spraying both Carrows. “Oh yes, and I’m here to spy on you, cousin.” She poked Regulus on the nose and nibbled his earlobe.

“Why are you spying on me?” he asked, pulling away from her sharply.

“Because your mother thinks you’re a little bitch,” Bellatrix replied. “A puppy, mind you. She wants to make sure you’re functioning well and have gotten over your little tantrum.”

Tantrum? What was that? Severus’ curiosity was piqued, but he said nothing.

“I’m fine!” Regulus insisted. “I had a bad patch for a few days, but I’m good now.” He grinned wickedly at her.

Bellatrix laughed. “We’ll see.” Turning to Severus, she pursed her lips in a girlish little pout. “And as for you, hot stuff,” she whispered, now pulling him towards herself by his tie. She kissed his mouth hungrily while the entire student body stared in shock and mirth and even a little horror.

Still holding Severus’ tie, she stood up, yanking on the tie for him to follow, which he did.

“Come with me,” she commanded playfully.

But Bellatrix didn’t get too far with Severus Snape that day. No sooner had they reached the doorway into the Entrance Hall then they were met by a very impatient Professor Dumbledore.


	21. The Bitter Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armed now with the identify of his father, the only question Severus has is, "who is Tom Riddle?"

Gated again, and again for the rest of the school year. No Hogsmeade, no secret trips to the Whomping Willow. And no visit home for the Christmas holiday. Severus held a stony, startled silence for the next several days, unable to respond in any way to those around him. He would only glare at people, that is, when he was able to lift his eyes from the abyss of his turbulent thoughts. Most days, however, Severus just seethed.

The last time he was gated, Severus had taken it as a challenge of sorts, as if he were playing a fierce game of Wizard Chess with Dumbledore. At the time, he felt somewhat on a par with the old man, mostly because he was determined that Dumbledore would not break his spirit. For reasons he couldn’t articulate, however, this time felt different. He felt insulted and humiliated, as if Dumbledore believed him to be six years old and incapable of doing anything for himself.

What did Dumbledore know? What secret did he hold? Severus wanted to rage and lash out at the old man, to punish him for keeping him in the dark like this, and then turning around and treating him like a naughty child. The only thing that kept him at school this time was his imminent exams, which he determined to sit. Not even Dumbledore and his Machiavellian methods would keep him from his exams.

“He really hates you,” Regulus observed. He and Severus sat by the fire in the Common Room, warming their feet and doing their homework. As usual, Regulus needed more than a little help from Severus, though Severus wasn’t so quick to be helpful.

“The feeling is mutual,” Severus spat. “One day soon I’m going to throw him off the Astronomy Tower and take over the whole school.”

“Maybe my mother can get you out.”

“Get real, Regulus. I don’t think even my own mother could get me out of this. She’d probably approve.”

“She’ll miss you for the holiday,” Regulus said, flipping through the pages of his book. He paused to scribble a moustache on a picture of a witch holding a flask—she didn’t seem to like that much.

“She won’t even let me home,” Severus grumbled under his breath. Suddenly, he blanched, realising too late that he revealed way too much.

Regulus nearly dropped his book. “You never told me that, man! When did this happen?”

“Never mind, Regulus,” he replied, rubbing his forehead a little too hard.

“You can tell me, Severus. I’m your friend!”

“I don’t want to talk about this, alright? _Casa finita est_.”

Regulus crinkled his brow. “Did you just hex me?”

“It’s Latin, bonehead! It means _case closed_!”

“Don’t call me a bonehead, Severus!” Regulus shot back. “Excuse me for not knowing Latin! I’m not stupid just because I don’t know another damn language! Geez, you can be such a fucking snob sometimes!”

Severus sighed. “You’re right, Regulus. I’m sorry. So you’re an ignoramus, but you’re not a bonehead.”

Regulus laughed. “Funny. Say, so I guess it’s back to the Library for you, Sev, now that you can’t run the grounds with anyone ever again.”

Severus rolled his eyes with disgust. “I may have to break into the Restricted Section, start researching poisons again.”

“What’s the answer to this?” Regulus asked, showing Severus a passage from his Transfiguration text, entitled, _Become an Animagus in Twenty-Five Easy Steps_.

Severus glanced it over, at first a bit confused by the tangle of complex, extraordinarily difficult instructions. How Potter managed to become an Animagus astounded Severus. And that Sirius could do it defied logic. Perhaps they had their own way—Severus hoped they had at least discovered some less complicated method.

“Why are you reading this rubbish?” he asked, thrusting it back into Regulus’ hands. “We didn’t read that last year.”

“Independent study. I figure if my brother can become an Animagus, so can I.”

“But why do you want to?”

“It would be great, wouldn’t it? Transforming into a cat or a dog or a bird or something and sneaking about.”

“There are better ways of sneaking about,” Severus replied casually.

“Like what?” Regulus asked eagerly.

Severus shook his head impatiently. “Regulus, I’m trying to study!” He returned his attention to his Potions essay, using all his powers of focus to ignore Regulus utterly.

Regulus laughed. “Say, I’ve got a wicked idea! If you screw it up as a Death Eater, you can come back as a teacher!” he crowed, going back to his reading. “Then no one can gate you!”

Severus nearly dropped his book. “Don’t even suggest that,” he said bitterly. “I’ve only got a few more months in this hole, and then I’m gone forever. The day I leave will be the happiest day of my life.”

Regulus laughed again. “You’re wrong. The happiest day of your life will the day you enter the organization.”

Severus smirked. “As long as I don’t have a meltdown like you did.”

* * * * *

Regulus had wanted to remain at Hogwarts during the holiday in order to keep Severus company, but his mother wouldn’t hear of it. Plus, Severus cringed at the thought, though he wouldn’t say that to anyone. As it happened, Regulus had his Death Eater duties to attend to, making Severus wonder a bit. Assuming that Regulus would likely kill or at least torture another person over the holiday, Severus hoped that his friend wouldn’t fall apart again.

Could he handle such a burden, Severus wondered about himself. He assumed so. Thinking back to the torture of that woman over the summer, Severus puzzled at how effortless it had been, how easy it was for him to separate himself into little emotional compartments like that. He supposed he’d done that all his life, considering how turbulent his childhood had been. It had become like second nature for Severus to conceal much of his personal life. 

Even when he was friends with Lily, he never told her the full scale of what Tobias had done to him. Part of that was due to sheer embarrassment and shame, but some of it had to do with his determination to keep control over his personal details. He had suffered enough at the hands of bullies to know that the more someone knows about you, the more they can use that information against you.

What would Regulus get to do over the holiday? Severus salivated at the thought, supposing there would be more muggle-baiting, more meetings, more time with the Dark Lord. The thought nearly took his breath away—he longed to be back in the Dark Lord’s presence, surrounded by all that splendid power and force. With his entry into the organisation so close and yet so far, Severus’ sense of anticipation suddenly grew exponentially.

Regulus was right. Back to the Library.

The morning of Boxing Day, Severus received the shock of Professor Dumbledore taking a seat across from him at the empty Slytherin table. Christmas had been a dreadful day—no friends, no presents from home, no letters or any other communication from the outside world. Even Regulus didn’t write. Then again, Regulus had man’s work to do.

So the appearance of Dumbledore, bearing a small red package took Severus by surprise.

“Happy Christmas, Severus,” Dumbledore said lightly. He pushed the package towards him and smiled gently.

Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to turn around and do something thoughtful right in the midst of holding him hostage? It made no sense to Severus.

“Same to you, sir.”

“That’s for you. Severus, I feel very bad about our recent communications. I think I could have handled things a little better, and I want to apologise to you. I know that you feel very targeted here, and I don’t blame you for hating me right now. I just hope that one day, we can mend our relationship.”

Severus looked down, unsure how to respond. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“I want you to understand something, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “I care about you very much, and that is why I’ve taken such steps. I wouldn’t do this with other students necessarily, but you are so special and so extraordinary…”

“But you won’t tell me the secret,” Severus replied, bubbling with fury and shame.

Dumbledore pointed to the package. “Part of it is in there. The rest is up to you. As much as I care about you, I can’t decide your future for you. I am giving you a little information, but it is your choice whether to follow that information or to let it drop.”

Severus took the package into his hands, feeling the smoothness of the shimmering red wrapping paper. He turned it over and assiduously unwrapped the package—a small, flat brown box peeked out from the folds of the paper.

“Before you open the box, Severus,” Dumbledore said, “you must know that the information inside it will change your life forever. It contains the name of your father.”

Severus frowned. “Tobias Snape?”

“I think you know he’s not your father, don’t you?”

Severus looked away. “Yeah. I suspected it.” He could feel his throat tighten. His hands shook slightly.

“I can’t tell you what to do with this information, but I would encourage you to learn more about this man. It could affect the choices you make in the near future.”

“What do you mean? Do you know who he is?”

Dumbledore sat back and frowned slightly. “I think you should take the box back to your room and look at it in private.”

“No! I’ll look now!” With that, Severus tore open the box and pulled out the small, white parchment. But the name was totally unfamiliar. Tom Riddle? “Who is this?” Severus asked.

“I think you need to take some time with this, Severus,” Dumbledore started.

“Do you know?”

“It is not my place to tell you that. I don’t think you’re quite ready.”

Severus glared at him. “Are you serious? What, so you just drop a name like that and then you step back, as if it has nothing to do with you? Why give me this if I’m not ready?”

“It’s not like that, Severus,” Dumbledore replied, doing all he could to remain calm.

“Then if you know who he is, why not tell me?”

Dumbledore scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I want to tell you, to be honest. But it wouldn’t be good for you. This is something you need to learn on your own, without outside influence, and when you feel ready to know more.” He stood up, patted Severus’ shaking hand, and swept away, just like that.

Too many questions raged inside Severus’ mind just then, clashing violently, chaotically. And then, the unthinkable happened. A treacherous flood of tears poured down his face and neck, and all Severus could do at that moment was bury his head in his arms and weep loud, choking uncontrollable sobs. He felt stupid, betrayed, used, abandoned. If this Tom Riddle person was his father, then why did Eileen marry Tobias Snape? Did Tom Riddle even know that he had fathered a child? Or did he…

No, that wasn’t possible. Surely his mother would have confided in him if something terrible had happened to her—he’d know somehow, whether through Legilimency or some other way. Then again, Severus hadn’t seen his mother for quite some time. But she never treated him as if she regretted having him. If something awful had happened that caused his conception, then Severus was certain that Eileen would have been terrible to him—wouldn’t that be her right? His fevered mind raced. Then again, she did stand by and allow him to be abused by Tobias. Was this a punishment for being conceived through…

Severus sighed, drying his face with his sleeves. He could feel several pairs of eyes on him, watching the spectacle of his breakdown like spectators at some lurid scene of death and violence. The few people in the Great Hall craned their necks to look, but no one dared approach him. Without making eye contact with anyone, Severus stormed out of the Great Hall and went straight to the Black Lake, wanting only to be alone with his hatred for Albus Dumbledore.

* * * * *

Time became a blur for Severus. As the second term started, he went through his day by rote, but with no heart, no energy, no desire. His grades fell sharply, making his teachers and his mother worry about him. They wondered if he was having a breakdown or if this was just typical teenage angst. Severus didn’t care—all that mattered was nurturing that sharp bud of hatred that festered within him, looking for new ways of letting it grow. He challenged every new rule, parsed every word that Dumbledore spoke, found new ways of defying him on every level.

At the same time, Regulus returned from the holiday, these days pale and stoic and occasionally explosive. Severus found it nearly unbearable to be anywhere near Regulus, and for that matter, Regulus could barely stand being around Severus. By the end of January, the two friends had barely spoken more than a few words to each other.

This did not mean, however, that Severus lost interest in Regulus, and in fact, took the opportunity to practice Legilimency on his friend. As angry as he was at Dumbledore and even at his mother, Severus still was eager to know what Death Eater activities Regulus participated in over the holiday. Getting the information was simple, mainly because Regulus couldn’t take his blank eyes off of Severus, though they usually sat at opposite ends of the common room these days. All Severus had to do was look.

What he first saw thrilled him. Within the tangle of Regulus’ very busy mind, he saw a dark forest, populated by old growth trees and thick shrubs and barbs. At a clearing, however, stood three Death Eaters—Bellatrix, Lucius and Regulus—they had cornered a teenaged muggle boy. One by one, they fired Crucio after Crucio at the shrieking muggle, who at first begged them to stop, then whimpered for his mother, then fell unconscious, now merely twitching. Bellatrix pointed her wand at the boy’s heart—the scene changed to what Severus was sure was Lucius’ bedroom. Lucius showered Regulus’ naked body with kisses and caresses, making Regulus moan with ecstasy.

The scene changed again, now to the Black mansion. A tear-stained Regulus stood before his furious mother.

“You’re not trying!” she bellowed.

“I am!” Regulus shot back, sobbing bitterly.

“You barely scalded that stupid muggle, Regulus!”

“That’s not true!”

“Well I’ll tell you one thing, you little queer. You had better get out of Lucius’ bed and do your duty! The Dark Lord is not happy with your performance, and it is not wise to get him angry.”

Regulus gasped, but then the scene changed…to darkness. Regulus had shut his books and was getting ready to return to the boys’ dorm. Severus decided it was time for bed, too.

“Night, Sev,” Regulus said, giving him a sad half-wave.

Severus grunted. He tried to go to bed. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted to sleep for the next six months, until it was time to take exams. Of course, by now the thought of exams had quite left Severus’ mind. What was more, his grades and his performance didn’t leave him with much to hope for. Severus knew that he had to get out of this funk, to stop letting his rage keep him from his goals. He didn’t understand himself any more.

Though he was not allowed to leave Hogwarts, Severus was not restricted from sending owl post. The next morning, therefore, he set out for the owlery, determined to get a message to his mother. This was his favourite time of year, the grounds covered with soft blankets of sparkling snow. The crisp air felt bracing and fresh, making his eyes water just a little as he crunched down the long path towards the owlery.

Inside, he stopped to scribble out a note to his mother:

_Mum,  
How are you? I hope you are well out there at Spinner’s End. How are the Harpes? Mum, I know that I’ve made you worry a lot these last several months, and I want you to know that I’m well. My grades took a little slip these last few weeks, but I’m working to put things right. Though my goals haven’t changed, I just want you to know that I never meant to make you upset, and I didn’t set out to defy you or flout your values._

_Mum, I’ve received some rather upsetting news these days, and I wanted to know what you know about a man called Tom Riddle. I know who he is with regards to me, but I don’t know who he is aside from that. I don’t want to distress you, and if you somehow can’t tell me, then I’ll understand. I’m only asking you because it’s important to me that I find out more about him._

_I miss you everyday, Mum, and I love you very much. I miss you._

_Take care. Love,_

_Severus_


	22. Ruptre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The stone gargoyles were already at the far sides of the door, giving Severus the go-ahead to enter the office, which he did. He hadn’t expected to see his mother there, sitting quietly in a comfortable chintz chair, drinking tea with the Headmaster. When they saw Severus enter, they both stood up, both looking uncomfortable now that he was there in their midst._
> 
> _What was this?_
> 
> _“Hi, baby,” Eileen said, her voice tight with emotion._

It was so safe there, tucked away in his favourite dark corner of the Library. Severus almost felt like he owned the spot, and in truth, he became upset if anyone else sat there when he arrived. He even chased a Second Year Ravenclaw out of the spot not so long ago. This little corner was his refuge, the one spot where no one could shout at him or disturb his ruminations.

Except Lily.

Deeply involved in a novel about a half-blood who took over the world, he never heard her sit down in the chair next to him, and it was only the faint scent of roses that caught his attention. She looked impossibly beautiful, almost glorious as her crown of red hair spilled down her lovely back and shoulders. Lily smiled, but not her usual, friendly smile. This smile was tinged with pain.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” she whispered.

Severus shut his book. “No. Never.”

“Do you want to walk with me? By the lake?”

“Isn’t that your boyfriend’s job?”

Lily cuffed him on the shoulder. “Come on, Sev. Come walk with me.”

“Aren’t we supposed to hate each other or something?”

She chuckled. “I’ll never hate you. I’ll call you a tosser, but I’ll never hate you.”

It felt good to walk with Lily Evans, though Severus secretly wished that it were for more…intimate reasons. Still, she took his arm and walked close to him, her hip occasionally nudging his as they made their way to a far end of the lake. For a few minutes, neither of them said a word, but finally, once they were far enough away, Lily loosened her hold on Severus and turned to face him.

“Talk to me, Sev,” she said. “I’m really scared for you right now.”

“Scared for me? Come on, Lily. I think you’re exaggerating.”

“I can always tell when you’re trouble, Sev.”

Severus scoffed at that. “I’m always troubled. Remember?”

“But this feels different.”

“Does Potter know you’re out here with me?” Severus asked. He played with a small stone with the tip of his shoe.

“No. No one does. This is between you and me. It’s private.” She closed her green eyes for a quick moment, gathering her courage. “Severus, are you…suicidal?” She blushed as she asked the question.

“What?” Severus shouted. “Me? Are you kidding?”

“It’s just that you’re showing all the symptoms of severe depression. Bad grades, weight loss, withdrawal. Seriously, Sev, I’m really scared for you. I’ve seen you in a bad way before, but nothing like this.”

Severus suppressed his outrage and instead, wrapped Lily in an embrace, feeling a secret thrill as he felt her hands against his back and shoulders. He longed to kiss her, to somehow erase the chill of Bellatrix’s kiss, but again, Severus suppressed the urge.

“I won’t lie to you, Lily,” he confessed, looking her straight in the eye. “I’ve been pretty low, it’s true. But I have never ever thought of killing myself. Alright?”

She gave him a doubtful look and scowled. “You can get very…dramatic when you’re like this, Sev.”

He kissed her forehead and hugged her again. “I’m fine. Seriously. I’m grateful that you’re worried, honestly. I’m just working out a few things.”

“Like what?”

His eyes darkened. “Nothing for you to worry about. Just family stuff.”

Lily nodded. She sniffled. “That’s a relief. I was worried that was…you know, that stuff you’re involved in. I mean, I’ve seen how your friend is acting these days, and I was afraid it was rubbing off on you somehow.”

“Regulus has his own issues to work out,” Severus replied. “He’s just young.”

“You’re only a year older!”

“And we have entirely different personalities! I’ve had to take care of myself for a long time. I haven’t had the same luxuries as he has.”

She shrugged. “True. Sirius has sort of given up on him.”

“Good.”

“I wish it wasn’t like this,” she said, taking his hand. They walked a while longer around the lake, just being quiet and feeling the cold breeze on their red cheeks. A black owl flew overhead, disappearing into the dark horizon.

“Do you ever think you and I will ever be friends again?” Severus asked.

Lily laughed. “We are friends, even if I hate what you’re doing. If I weren’t your friend, I wouldn’t care so much.”

“So you were wrong before.”

“About what?”

“You said last June that we were no longer friends.”

Lily blushed. “You called me a mudblood.”

“I already told you I said it out of anger, Lily. I didn’t mean it.”

“What will they say when they find out about your father?” she asked.

Severus blanched, until he realised what she meant. “I keep family matters to myself,” he replied coolly.

“You’re playing a dangerous game. These guys are hard core.”

“No shit, Lily. Can we change the subject before we have another fight?”

She took his arm and put her head on his shoulder as they walked. “I love you, Sev. I want to kick you in the head sometimes, but I do love you.”

“I love you, too. I always will, no matter what.” He wanted to tell her so many things, how he wished she would stop seeing Potter and start seeing him, how he wanted to place her on a golden throne and fall down before her like a slave. But he remained silent, keeping all these fantasies close to his heart.

* * * * *

At dinner that night, Severus decided to make a little change within himself. After all, he didn’t want anyone thinking he was suicidal, for many reasons. He didn’t want sappy, sentimental, false pity, and he especially didn’t want ridicule. Severus imagined Sirius volunteering to help him do the job right—he shuddered. But more than all that, he didn’t want to be perceived as weak, as someone who had been beaten down to the point of giving up on life. He wanted to fight, to stay in the game and get on with things. After all, he had plans, goals, new spells to write and perfect.

He wanted to please the Dark Lord and get on his good side. He wanted to rise quickly in the organisation, much as Bellatrix had, so that he could enjoy rare intimacy with the Dark Lord’s inner circle, those he trusted and esteemed the most. If the Dark Lord thought for a moment that he was suicidal, Severus knew that would infuriate him. Shouldn’t the promise of becoming a Death Eater be a moment to rejoice? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became at Lily, for presuming something so awful.

Lily was hanging around Potter way too much—all that maudlin phoniness was rubbing off on her, to Severus’ chagrin and deep disappointment. There had been a time when she wouldn’t have been so easily given to cheap sentiment. Severus’ best memories of Lily normally involved deep discussions of the ways of the world, or hatching plots to take over the Ministry, or exploring the darker side of Potions—Lily had a real knack for that, Severus remembered. But now, what had she become but a shadow of her former, rebellious self?

Why could he not let go of her? It seemed unfair to him that he could not shake her from his heart’s deepest dreams. Intellectually, it was all wrong—she was all wrong for him. She had moved on, taken up with Potter, for whatever that was worth, and she showed no signs of giving him up. Even more to the point, Lily showed absolutely no romantic inclination towards Severus. Instead, she lectured him, fussed over him, snapped at him, but that was it.

Before he could worry any more about Lily Evans, Jazmine Goyle, a very cute Fourth Year Slytherin girl with long, black hair, sashayed over to Severus, sitting with his usual crew, eating casually and relatively quietly. Regulus was in another funk, Cassius and Mucliber had argued earlier and weren’t speaking, and Evan had a headache.

“Hi, boys,” Jazmine said kittenishly. “I have a little note for you, Severus.”

She dangled the note in front of him, but when he reached to take it, she pulled it back playfully.

“Say please,” she tittered.

“Give him the damn note, Jaz,” Regulus snarled.

Jaz scowled at Regulus and thrust the note at Severus. “Your friend’s in a shit mood,” she muttered to him. Severus only replied by rolling his eyes impatiently.

“Thank you, Jaz,” he said politely. “Forgive Regulus for his impertinence. It’s his time of the month.”

Cassius snorted, but Regulus blushed.

“You’re such a stupid fucker,” Regulus growled at him.

Severus ignored him and opened the note. Right away, he recognised the thin handwriting as Professor Dumbledore’s.

“Dammit,” he whispered.

“Now what?” Cassius asked.

“Summoned again. The stupid old git won’t leave me alone!”

Regulus’ eyes flashed. “You had better not tell him anything,” he snarled.

Severus slammed down the note. “What is your problem tonight, Regulus?” he asked impatiently. “You’ve been acting like a complete pillock all bloody evening!”

Regulus threw down his fork, stood up in a huff and stormed out, without so much as a word, leaving the others to wonder what was going on. Severus suspected, but said nothing. He’d talk to him and smooth it out, he was sure. In the meantime, he had only a few minutes to report to Professor Dumbledore’s office yet again, for some new, unfathomable reason. He trudged his way through the castle, up stone stairs and through corridors, making his way reluctantly, angrily, to the Head’s office.

The stone gargoyles were already at the far sides of the door, giving Severus the go-ahead to enter the office, which he did. He hadn’t expected to see his mother there, sitting quietly in a comfortable chintz chair, drinking tea with the Headmaster. When they saw Severus enter, they both stood up, both looking uncomfortable now that he was there in their midst.

What was this?

“Hi, baby,” Eileen said, her voice tight with emotion.

“Why are you here, Mum?” Severus asked tremulously. He suddenly felt like he was seven years old again. He wanted to rush to her and let her hold him, but he balked, not wanting to show the least bit of his neediness in front of Albus Dumbledore.

“I got your letter.” She nodded to Dumbledore, who nodded back and stepped from the office. “Albus and I talked, and we both decided that it was time to tell you at least a little.”

“About my father?” Severus asked bitterly.

Eileen sat down again and patted the chair next to her. “Come, sit. I want to tell you about it.”

“Will you tell me who he is?” Severus asked, not sitting.

“There’s only so much I dare tell you, baby,” she replied. “I’ve taken a huge risk by even authorising Albus to tell you his name.”

Severus’ heart skipped a beat, and he rushed to sit by his mother. “What do you mean? Is he still out there?”

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes with a small, greying handkerchief that was so threadbare in the centre that Severus could see the outline of her face through it.

“I thought he had disappeared for good after he’d gone,” she explained. “But then Albus brought me word that he had become dangerous once again. He knows about you, Severus. He did all along.”

“Who is he?” Severus demanded.

“I can’t tell you! I don’t dare! It’s too awful!”

“What did he do to you, Mum? Did he…” But Severus couldn’t get the word out. His throat tightened, especially when Eileen nodded.

“He kidnapped me actually,” she replied, her voice shaking. “I never told you because I wanted to forget all about it. You can understand that, can’t you?”

It was too much, too fast. What had she gone through? Severus dissolved into tears, leaning his forehead against his mother’s shoulder. She stroked his hair and his arms with a gentle hand.

“I was an apothecary in Diagon Alley, you know,” she said. “I had quite a knack for Potions. You get your talent from me, not from…him. Anyway, he had come into the shop a few times, I thought to flirt with me. He was extremely handsome, the most handsome man I’d ever seen, in fact. One night, I came out of the shop and locked up, only to see him hanging around across the street. I figured maybe he wanted to ask for a date, but then he…” Her voice trailed off.

“What?” Severus asked, desperate know all the wretched details. “What did he do to you?”

“He Imperiused me, or at least I think he did. All I remember is that suddenly I wanted to go with him wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, as often as he wanted, and it was only two weeks later, after he finally let me go, that I realised what had happened.”

“When did you know you were pregnant with me?”

She gave him a wan smile. “I knew almost immediately that you were there, Severus. My entire body felt different after that.”

“Did you report him? Did you go to the Ministry?” he asked.

“I was Imperiused, baby. I wasn’t myself, but there was no proof of that. I had no case against him, I’m afraid.”

“And you didn’t have a termination,” Severus observed. “Why didn’t you? Most women in your situation would have had a termination.”

“I could never do that,” Eileen replied, a little horrified at the suggestion. “You saved my life, Severus. Did you know that? After I realised that I’d been…well, I thought I might die. But your presence in me gave me focus, gave me a reason to live. I met your father, that is, Tobias, soon after. Our mothers knew each other for years, and it was so easy to just carry on with him and then pretend that you were his. It gave me a reason to forget what had happened.”

Severus sat back and dried his eyes and face. “What do I do? I know his name and nothing else. Professor Dumbledore…”

“He was reluctant to say anything to you at all, so please don’t be mad at him,” Eileen said. “To be honest, even I don’t really know everything about your father. I only have Albus’ word that he is a very dangerous man these days.”

“Does the Ministry know about him? Are they doing anything to catch him?”

“They’re doing what they can, I suppose. I don’t really know. I don’t want to know, so long as he stays away from us.”

This troubled Severus. “But is he a danger to you? Will he stay away from you?”

New tears fell down Eileen’s cheeks, tearing a gash in Severus’ aching heart. “I have to go away for a while, Severus,” she said through sobs. “Until it’s safe for me to come back. Albus is doing all he can to keep both of us safe from him, so it’s crucial that you don’t try to leave this place until the very end of school. Promise me that, please!”

Severus nodded, taking his mother’s hands in his. “Don’t worry about me, Mum. I can take care of myself, alright? You raised me to be strong and independent, so please, know that I’ll be fine.”

“Stay away from the Blacks,” Eileen warned him. “They’ll only bring you down, and you’re in no position to be betrayed like that. You’ve suffered enough in life.”

“You’re wrong, Mum!” Severus protested. “If I join the organisation, I can have the power to fight this Tom Riddle! I’ll have the support behind me to obliterate him for good! You don’t understand, Mum!”

“They’ll break your spirit!” she argued back. “They’ll make you immune to violence!”

“Tobias Snape already did that,” Severus shot back.

“He wounded you, my love, but he didn’t rob you of your conscience. But these Death Eaters will. You’ll be an open target for him in that state, and I can’t see you go through that! I don’t want to lose you!”

“You won’t lose me, Mum,” Severus said quietly. “I swear it. I won’t let you down.”

Just then, the door opened, and Professor Dumbledore re-entered the office, wearing a traveling cloak.

“Eileen, it’s time,” he said firmly.

“Time? Time for what?” Severus demanded, jumping to his feet.

“Your mother has risked her safety to give you this small amount of information, Severus. She is no longer safe at home, I’m afraid.”

Severus looked frantically at his mother, then Dumbledore, back and forth again. “So she’s just going? Just like that?”

“The sooner the better,” Dumbledore replied. “It’s all taken care of, Severus. She’ll be quite safe where she’s going.”

Severus suddenly felt a shock of grief and guilt tear through him. He had been so insistent about knowing more. He wanted the name. He caused all the fuss. It was all his fault. For a moment, Severus thought he might lose his mind, realising he might never see his mother again because of him. He swooned, but stood his ground, his feet like solid stone.

“Severus, I’ll speak to you when I get back,” Dumbledore said. And then his features softened. He put a comforting hand on Severus’ shoulder. “This is not your fault, son. Do you understand?”

Severus couldn’t reply. All he could do was stare blankly ahead, watching his mother disappear out the door, followed closely by the man he hated more than anything. It was as if an eternity of time passed as he stood there in the now empty office, and when he finally was able to move, the world tilted and surged dangerously. Severus staggered out of the office, tears still flowing freely, not bothering to notice the steady flow of fellow students passing from the Great Hall to various parts of the castle. 

Yet all stopped at the strange sight of the gaunt, black-eyed, hook-nosed Severus Snape as he fumbled and stumbled down the corridor, sobbing uncontrollably, and then, to everyone’s shock, collapsing in a heap just under the far, tall window.


	23. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everything looked the same. Same threadbare couch, same cheap dinette, same wizard and muggle magazines and television and second-hand books. Same but different. There was no sign of life here, no sounds of quotidian life or his mother’s voice or the smells of her simple cookery. It was as if the house were dead, or dormant or comatose. It held brimming potential within these grey walls, yet they lacked a spark of promise, too. She had cleaned the house before she took off._

For a long time, he couldn’t quite live it down. After all, Severus had prided himself on being dangerous, inscrutable, rebellious, defiant, especially these days now that Potter and his cronies had backed off. The last image Severus wanted of himself was that of a weeping, fainting git. But there it was, in front of everyone. Regulus did his best to do a bit of damage control, telling people that Severus was sick and suffering from exhaustion. 

Some people believed the story, but others came up with rumours about his collapse. One rumour said that he had been poisoned by Bellatrix Lestrange after he had gotten her pregnant—no one believed that one. Another was that James Potter had broadcast secret nude photographs of Severus and Bellatrix all over the school—that one was more believable. Some thought that perhaps his association with Regulus Black and Damien Mulciber had somehow cursed him and caused him to lose his mind. That rumour was quite popular, making even the likes of Sirius Black look on him with a modicum of pity.

All Severus could do was behave as if nothing had happened, though he secretly wanted to crucio the lot of them. And then, Regulus dropped a bombshell on him.

“Hey, Sev,” he whispered that same night, after Severus had been released from the Hospital Wing. “I heard your mother was here.”

Severus glared at him. “What? Who told you that?”

“Cassius Avery. Why?”

“How did Cassius Avery know my mother was here?”

Regulus shrugged. “No idea.”

Severus narrowed his eyes, but he said no more. How could Avery have known? He’d never even met Eileen before. Of course, he could have recognised her from the platform at King’s Cross, But when would Avery had seen her at school? Why would he be anywhere near Dumbledore’s office? Severus threw Avery a quick glance that night as they all got ready for bed, but said nothing.

“You feeling better, Sev?” Evan asked.

“Fine,” Severus replied flatly.

“Never thought of you as a fainter,” Evan said.

“Old family tradition,” Severus said flippantly.

To his relief, no one laughed the next day. In fact, most people gave him a little space, and a few students he barely knew but thoroughly detested were almost nice to him. Alice Bones patted him on the shoulder as she passed by, and Lily stopped by to give him a kiss on the cheek before she returned to the Gryffindor table, at the far end of the Great Hall.

By the end of the week, no one gave Severus the slightest bit of trouble. No one teased him or bullied him or made the usual jokes about his nose. They just left him alone, perhaps afraid they might set him off or make him sicker than they thought he already was. Yet besides his few Slytherin friends, no one asked Severus how he was or what they could do. Perhaps they knew better than to incur his wrath by poking into his privacy like that.

How did Avery know about his mother?

The rest of the term passed quite peacefully for Severus. He quickly got back on track with his studies, got his grades up to his usual high standards, and began to prepare for his NEWT’s—he used his anger and frustration as a motivating force, convincing himself that the sooner he excelled at his exams, the sooner he could enter the organisation, where he could unleash his powers and reap the vast rewards, which he would then use to set up a save place for his mother and himself. Yes, that would work.

Exams were a breeze—Severus actually enjoyed them, mostly because it gave him something different to think about. No worries about his mother or Tom Riddle or Cassius Avery or the fact that he might never see Lily Evans again. That thought hurt him almost as much as anything else. Though they rarely spoke or even looked at each other, Severus hadn’t lost his ardour for her, though her attentions had significantly cooled towards him in recent weeks, once she felt certain he would be alright. He wished she would join the organisaiton with him.

What a perfect arrangement. She had the capacity for it, though the fact that she was muggle-born worked against her—he was a hard man to fool. Severus supposed the Dark Lord would figure it out pretty quick. On the other hand, he might be tempted to admit her, if only for her extraordinary magical abilities. Would he be willing to overlook her blood status for the sake of obtaining such a powerful ally? But no, it would never work. Lily would never agree to it.

Onward.

* * * * *

Regulus Black was entirely silent all the way back to London. He sat and stared darkly out the window while Severus, Evan, Mulciber and Cassius talked and joked and plotted the rest of their lives.

“Do you have a date set yet, Sev?” Cassius asked.

“No, not yet,” Severus replied. “I suppose I’ll have some sort of meeting to sort out the details.”

“You staying in London this summer?” Cassius asked.

“What’s it to you?” Severus snapped. “Why are you always asking questions?”

Cassius sat back in his seat, looking affronted. “Sor-ry, mate. Excuse me for being curious.”

Severus scowled. “There is such a thing as being too curious, Avery.

Evan laughed. “He’s staying with you again, right, Reg?” He playfully kicked Regulus’ foot, but Regulus only jerked his leg out of the way and continued to stare out the window.

“I might go home, actually,” Severus confessed.

That caught Regulus’ attention. “Why?” he asked insolently.

“Because I haven’t seen my own house in over a year, that’s why!” Severus barked.

Regulus returned his gaze to the passing scenery out the window.

Mrs. Black, however, had other plans for Severus. “You are invited as our special guest to Blackstone, our summer estate in Kent. It’s not to far from the Channel, actually. You boys can go to the beach from time to time. I thought you’d like that.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Black,” Severus said gratefully. “Perhaps I can join you there in a few days time, but I think I must visit my mother’s house first.”

She smiled placidly. “Just be sure you are at our house no later than July 7. That is your entrance date.”

Regulus gasped hollowly, his eyes darkening strangely. “We’ll see,” he scoffed.

Mrs. Black threw her son a warning glare. “I hope your mother is well. We are leaving for Kent on July 4, so if you would be back with us beforehand, it will make things much easier.” She looked at Regulus and scowled. “Regulus, dear, aren’t you going to say good-bye to Severus? He’s leaving now.”

With a huff, Regulus turned away.

“Well, Mrs. Black,” Severus said, ignoring Regulus’ tantrum. “I shouldn’t be more than three or four days.”

Severus balked, however, at rushing home right away. After all, he would be returning to an empty house. He had no idea if it was being watched by some unseen enemy from the Ministry or if it were torn apart or burned or ransacked. Severus had such a horrific picture in his mind of this Tom Riddle person that he wondered whether he might be there waiting for him, ready to cart him off to some unknown place and kill him. He worried that Riddle might be searching for Eileen—all he could hope was that Dumbledore had hidden her well.

One thing Severus knew was that he would not let this interfere with his entrance to the organisation, especially now that July 7 loomed near. Severus vowed that he would use every connection he had in the organisation to track down Riddle and kill him. His mother didn’t deserve to live like this—she had been through enough with Tobias.

After doing a bit of shopping in Diagon Alley, Severus quickly apparated back to his house, unsure what he would find. He walked silently down the empty, quiet street, his robes lapping in soft whooshes as he neared the house at the corner of Spinner’s End. Looking carefully around him, Severus couldn’t see any enemies around him. He clutched the Vampire Stone tightly in his hand, tapping into the magic of the gentle wind and the setting sun behind his back. His fingers tingled.

The house was dark, the front garden overgrown and neglected. Taking out his wand, Severus uttered a silent incantation, and with a wave, his mother’s garden was restored. He stopped midway up the front path to the house, thinking he heard a rustle…did he? No, nothing. Onward he went, using his key to open the creaky door.

“Lumos,” he whispered. His wand lit up brightly.

Everything looked the same. Same threadbare couch, same cheap dinette, same wizard and muggle magazines and television and second-hand books. Same but different. There was no sign of life here, no sounds of quotidian life or his mother’s voice or the smells of her simple cookery. It was as if the house were dead, or dormant or comatose. It held brimming potential within these grey walls, yet they lacked a spark of promise, too. She had cleaned the house before she took off.

Severus sighed. He climbed the rickety stairs, going up to his room, but at the threshold, he could only stand and stare, engulfed by unwelcome emotion. She had left his room exactly as it was the last time he was here, as if he had never fought with her, never got kicked out, never was the product of… Severus sank to the floor, still staring blankly, his numb body trembling. Nothing made sense to him. No sense of closure or comprehension or anything else came to his troubled mind. Only pain and regret and loss. He wanted to be sick.

Instead, Severus picked himself up, grabbed a few clothes from his closet—the few that looked halfway decent—and turned to leave, stopping only at a little picture on his dresser. It was old, black-and-white, taken with a muggle camera. He and Lily were about ten years old, barefoot, faces covered with chocolate, laughing and teasing and having the time of their lives. It was a moment in time Severus had never forgotten, despite their disagreements, and he felt sure that Lily hadn’t forgotten it, either.

As children, Severus remembered, Lily’s muggle sister, Petunia, never liked him. In a way, she was like Tobias, totally intolerant of anything remotely different from the norm. Petunia refused to speak to Severus, in fact, that is, unless she was spewing venom at him for being a vile little freak. As much as he wanted to hex her into oblivion, Severus resisted. Instead, he and Lily waged a secret campaign to mess with Petunia, in mostly harmless ways, just to have a bit of fun. They would change the flavour of her chocolate to liver, or they would make things vanish from her room—her bed, a lamp, and once, all her shoes. Naturally, they gave everything back, but it was fun all the same.

In that picture, Severus remembered with a rare grin, they had just shrunk Petunia’s bicycle so small that she would have to use a magnifying glass to see it properly—that was Lily’s idea. Afterward, they celebrated the prank with huge ice cream sundaes, swimming in chocolate sauce and whipped cream. It was a great day.

Severus scowled. How could she have changed so much in so short a time? Since when did she become so politically correct? Potter, of course. And Sirius Black. Severus pocketed the picture and disapparated to London.

* * * * *

The Black estate in Kent was unlike anything Severus had ever seen before. While it was nothing to the splendour of Malfoy Manor, Blackstone held a magnificence of its own. Surrounded by thick, dark forests, Blackstone looked out over the English Channel. On a clear day, the distant shores of France were just visible. The house stood only three storeys tall, but it spanned outward in a distinct X-shape, all in pristine white—the view of the house was at once stark and majestic. The windows seemed to glitter from outside, and when Severus would walk through the many gardens at the estate late into the cool night, he could only look on with wonder and a bit of envy.

His room at Blackstone was opulent, massive, almost as big as his mother’s house. The bed could have held four people, he was sure, though he wanted it all to himself—and perhaps Bellatrix from time to time. What he did know was that he needed to relax in the days to come, as his initiation was now so close he could practically taste it. The thick rug under his bare feet in that splendid room felt like heaven to Severus—he didn’t want to leave.

As it happened, the Dark Lord did not make an appearance at Blackstone the first four days of their stay. He would not arrive until a couple of hours before the initiation ritual, or so Severus was told. In the meantime, Severus put thoughts of his family troubles and Tom Riddle and Dumbledore out of his mind, for once allowing himself to rest and ease his fevered thoughts. He knew he needed his strength for whatever was to come—the last thing Severus wanted was to fall apart as Regulus had.

Regulus had grown even more sullen and moody, especially now that he was back home with his mother. He rarely spoke these days, and from what Severus could tell by Legilimency, Regulus was increasingly afraid of the Dark Lord’s wrath. He also suspected that Regulus had started to drink way too much, too often. He knew that Regulus felt weak, inadequate, a total failure as a Death Eater and as a man, but the more Severus wanted to speak to Regulus about his troubles, the more he saw that he couldn’t. This was something Regulus had to work out on his own, without outside interference.

The morning of July 7, therefore, Severus awoke to a shock. A very drunk Regulus sat at the window, smoking a cigarette and drinking even more.

“What are you doing in here?” Severus asked, taken aback by his friend’s intrusion.

“Ss my house!” Regulus slurred. “Icn fffkng go wherrrr want!”

“It’s seven in the morning, Regulus!” Severus snapped. “Isn’t it a bit early for you to be pissed?”

Regulus grinned wickedly and stumbled over to the bed, waggling a half-empty bottle of Old Ogdens. “Cmmn, Shhev, drink wifff me!” He crawled across the expanse of the bed, holding out the bottle.

Severus scooted back. “If you puke on this bed, I’ll fucking kick your arse.”

Regulus cackled, and when Severus made the bottle vanish out of his hand, Regulus laughed even more. He crawled closer, so close that Severus could smell the whiskey and cigarette smoke on his breath. Regulus pushed his black hair out of his blurry eyes and smirked, leaning closer to a very nervous Severus.

“Cmmen, Shh…ev! Give us a kiss.” He gripped Severus by the shoulders and pressed himself roughly against him, attempting to kiss his mouth. Furious, Severus tried to shove him off, but Regulus wouldn’t have that. He gripped Severus even harder and slammed him against the headboard, again trying to kiss him.

“Get the hell off!” Severus bellowed, pushing hard against Regulus. Regulus responded by shoving back forcefully. Despite his drunken state, Regulus was strong and forceful.

“Dammit, Sev!” Regulus growled, trying again to kiss him. But when he leaned forward, Severus managed to shift to the side, making Regulus smack his head against the headboard with a crack.

Using all his strength, Severus wrestled the drunken, out-of-control Regulus off him, letting him fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“Damn you, Regulus!” Severus sniped. “You try that again and I’ll fucking kill you! Got it?”

For a moment, Regulus lay there on the floor in a drunken heap, but he eventually sat up, rubbing his shoulder. He whimpered lightly, looking completely dejected, and suddenly, he burst into bitter tears. Severus groaned impatiently.

“Go sober up,” Severus said disdainfully. “You’re a pathetic mess.”

“Donnn do it, Sss…sevrrrss,” Regulus cried, ignoring the insult.

“What are you talking about, you stupid, drunken sod?”

“Donnn joinnem man. Don’t become a Dthhttrrr!”

“You’re being ridiculous, Regulus.”

“No! Mmmonest! Jusss don’t! Wrrrnnt…cut out for it!”

“Well maybe you’re not,” Severus muttered.

“Well DUH!” Regulus replied. “But you’re not, either, man.” He struggled to get control of his emotions and his speech.

“You don’t know anything.”

“You’re entering ffffrr the wrong rrrreasons,” Regulus said slowly, sniffling softly. He had calmed down a bit, and his speech had cleared up. “I know you are.”

“And you entered because you were doing what your mother said, like always.”

Regulus looked away. “I know.” He sighed. “Sev, you have to believe in the cause, all of it.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“You’re a half-blood,” Regulus replied. He burped. “I think I’m sobering up.”

“I’m not a half-blood,” Severus shot back.

“You are! Your father is a muggle! My stupid brother told me!” Regulus swooned a little as he stood up.

“Does the Dark Lord know?” Severus asked dangerously.

Regulus shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t care, I mean, he’s taking you.”

“And you’re telling me not to enter?” Severus said mirthfully. “Go finish your bottle, Regulus! Go on, get out.”

Regulus scowled, but turned and staggered out the door, nearly knocking into a potted plant on his way out. The door shut with a slam, leaving Severus alone to make some sort of sense of what had just happened.


	24. Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 7 has arrived...Severus' initiation into the Death Eaters.

At one stroke after eleven, the front doors of Blackstone flew open, as if forced by the whipping wind outside. Emerging from the greying clouds swirling at his bare feet, the Dark Lord swept quietly inside, briefly acknowledging the kneeling masses who had lined up on both sides of the grand entrance to greet him with homage. Mrs. Black was the only one to remain standing, though her hooded head was bowed reverently.

“My Lord,” she said gravely.

The Dark Lord placed his hand upon her head for a moment. “My dear Walburga.” 

Taking her by the arm, he made his way down the lines, his head held high, his eyes fixed on a grey robed Severus Snape, who knelt at the very end of the line, right next to Regulus. The Dark Lord stopped before him and held out both his hands.

“The time has come,” he said.

Regulus gulped. Severus nodded sternly, keeping his own eyes fixed back on the Dark Lord. He did, however, keep his mind tightly shut through Occlumency, hoping no one would catch on. Undeterred by Regulus’ words to him that morning, Severus gladly took his cue from the Dark Lord. He clasped his cold, hard hands and stood up, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin just a little, still not removing his eyes from the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord smirked. “I can feel your energy, Severus. “Your magic is blistering.” He turned to his side. “Bellatrix, Lucius, lead the way to the clearing. The ritual is now underway.”

Severus sucked in his breath lightly, then marched alongside the Dark Lord and Mrs. Black as they were led outside, down the long path and into the forest at the South end of the manor. Severus noticed that every important Death Eater was present—Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, the young Igor Karkarov, the Carrows’ father, and of course, the great Abraxas Malfoy. He did not see Narcissa Malfoy, however, though of course, Bellatrix, Roddy, Rabastan and others were there. Severus wondered if this was the case with every induction into the organisation. He supposed so.

After all, this was a great moment in ones life, that precious time when everything would change. He was at the threshold of achieving all his goals, living out his dreams of new power and prestige and freedom—now, he would have the ability to bring his mother home, to end her shame and her fear. All he had to do was survive whatever they might do to him in this ritual. Judging from Regulus’ reaction, Severus supposed it wouldn’t be so easy.

Lit by a pale glow from their wands, all the assembled Death Eaters formed a circle around a small, triangular dais. The black robes and hoods almost disappeared against the ebony sky and the trees’ shadows, giving the illuminated circle an ethereal look. Severus tried not to tremble, especially as he was still grasping onto the Dark Lord’s arm, but when the Dark Lord gave his hand an affectionate pat, Severus blushed deeply.

“Don’t be scared,” the Dark Lord whispered. Severus nodded.

The Dark Lord mounted the dais, motioning for Severus to stand before him. He pointed his wand at Severus just then.

“Remove your clothing,” he commanded.

What? Remove his clothing? In front of all these people? That made Severus even more nervous. The very last thing he wanted was for everyone to see his skinny, pallid, gangly frame—he’d had enough of that from Potter and Black in his Fifth Year. But this was an order by the Dark Lord, and so…

The air felt icy cold against his bare skin, though it was summertime. Severus supposed it was nerves that made him react so acutely. And when no one laughed, he felt much better, much more relaxed. He let the robes fall to his feet, though he held onto his wand.

“As you enter into our company,” the Dark Lord began, “you enter into a brotherhood of sorts, where there is no shame, no hiding, no secrets. To bare your body before us is symbolic of that intimate level of trust we share and foster within the organisation, a trust which if betrayed, would bring lethal consequences. Do you understand, Severus?”

Severus nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Tonight, Severus, as we bring you into the fold, we demand two things of you. We demand your unflinching service, and we demand your complete loyalty. Do you take that on willingly?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“This ritual is comprised of two parts, flesh and blood. We will now commence with the first part. Severus, take my left hand with your left hand, and raise your wand with your right.”

Severus did as told, with eyes closed. What would this feel like? Would it hurt? Would it feel arousing? 

“Take the air into your wand with three circles counterclockwise,” the Dark Lord ordered. “Breathe deeply and, on the third circle, exhale through your nose.”

Severus did as he was told. One…breathe in, two…breathe in, three…exhale through the nose. And then he felt it, a slash of blinding pain which blazed through his wand, into his lungs and stomach and spine and heart, pulsing through his whole body and then, like a knife wound, bursting through his left forearm, burning, cutting, sending Severus nearly out of his mind for two whole minutes. His legs shook under him and his entire body tensed horribly and the pain rose like a crescendo and then, simply dissolved like powder.

Severus collapsed to his knees, still trembling violently, struggling to catch his breath. His arm throbbed painfully, but his heart sizzled and crackled with new energy, something he hadn’t felt before. Everyone applauded politely as he stumbled to his feet, and as Regulus rushed forward to hand him his robes, the applause grew.

“You okay?” Regulus whispered as he helped Severus get dressed.

“Fine.”

Regulus grinned wickedly. “You made it! At least through part one. Look!”

Severus looked down at his left arm, which now bore the same skull and serpent that Bellatrix and Regulus and Lucius and every other Death Eater had on their arm. He now belonged. In the next instant, before Severus had time to take it all in, Lucius came forward with a large champagne glass, filled to the brim.

“Drink,” he said. “I trust you’ve learned how to keep you liquor down since I first met you.”

Severus grinned and lifted the glass, now downing the entire contents in a single, slightly messy gulp. The Dark Lord appeared at his side, pouring more champagne into the glass. “I’ve added a little something,” he said. “Go on. Drink.”

Severus obeyed, three more times. Actually, it felt good to be drunk tonight—it took his mind off the pain he still felt in his arm, and it let him forget that the whole assembly had just seen him naked. Severus drank and drank, and even after Bellatrix had kissed him in congratulations, as had a couple of other women, Severus drank even more. Bellatrix giggled impishly.

“Now it’s time for part two,” she whispered in his ear.

“Just so,” the Dark Lord replied, handing his glass to Orion Black. 

He placed one hand on Severus’ shoulder, and with the other, waved for a small group of Death Eaters to come forward, which they now did, pulling alongside them a struggling, bound young man. Severus recognised him right away as Thomas Macmillan, a Ravenclaw in Regulus’ year. The Dark Lord smirked, but Severus only scowled. Macmillan was shoved up onto the dais, held fast by three very large Death Eaters. His broad, rosy face now grew pale with fright as he looked pleadingly at Severus.

“You know this young man, correct?” the Dark Lord asked in Severus’ ear.

“He’s a Hogwarts student. He’s due to be a Seventh Year.”

“Macmillan, right?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Tell me, Severus, how has Macmillan treated you all these years?” the Dark Lord asked blithely.

“Not well,” Severus replied.

“Not well? This boy has been a right pain in the arse, hasn’t he?” the Dark Lord asked sharply. “My people tell me he’s been monstrous towards you.”

“Hey, come on, Sev, it was just a joke!” Macmillan called out with a trembling voice.

“It was your nose, wasn’t it, that this Macmillan liked to joke about?” the Dark Lord asked pointedly.

Severus frowned, looking at Macmillan with a confusing mixture of pity and rage. “He insulted every part of me, my Lord,” he replied stiffly.

“Your hair, correct?” the Dark Lord asked sympathetically, now looking up and down at Severus’ lank, oily hair. “And your poverty?”

Severus tightened his grip on his wand. Regulus took hold of Lucius’ hand, but Lucius pulled away.

“Hey, Sev, I’m sorry, alright?” Macmillan said desperately. Tears streamed down his anguished face. “I’m a jerk, right? A real pig! I swear I’m sorry! I take it back, alright? Come on!”

“You don’t believe him, do you?” the Dark Lord asked dangerously. “He’s mocking you all over again.”

Rage bubbled up in Severus as he pictured so clearly the years of torment he suffered at the hands of Macmillan—he was almost as bad as Potter and Black, never missing a moment to slam Severus into a wall or even shove him on the stairs.

In a flash, Severus raised his wand, and with two sharp flicks, cut into a shrieking Macmillan’s face, then his arms, chest, legs. Blood trickled down Macmillan’s body but was unable to escape the grip of the Death Eaters on either side of him.

“Come on, stop!” he cried. “Please, I’m sorry!”

Incensed by some irrational outburst, Severus narrowed his eyes at Macmillan and pointed his wand at Macmillan’s knees—he circled the wand and jerked it outward, causing Macmillan to howl with pain and to collapse under his own weight as his knees were shattered by Severus’ spell. He lay at the Death Eaters’ feet in a whimpering, cowering, bloody heap, sobbing and begging.

“Please, Severus! Please!” Macmillan sobbed. “Please!”

The Dark Lord touched Severus’ shoulder lightly. “I think it’s time,” he whispered.

Severus nodded, pointing his wand at Macmillan’s heart. He couldn’t feel his own feet, nor his head. The world went silent for two seconds, as if it had stopped turning, stopped moving, stopped breathing.

“Avada kedavra,” Severus hissed. A flash of green light hit the shaking, twitching Macmillan, and then he simply stopped moving.

For some reason he couldn’t understand or control, Severus sank again to his knees, gasping for breath, overwhelmed by a frigid cold that took his mind and body captive. He stared intently at Macmillan’s bloody corpse for a moment, wondering what had just happened. The press of Bellatrix’ hands on his arms and the thrill of her lips now against his brought him quickly back to reality.

“Well done, Severus,” the Dark Lord said proudly. “Well done.”

* * * * *

The party raged on for five days, an unending stream of drinking, dancing, sex and sumptuous food. Never alone, never sober, never quite free from fawning female attention, Severus soaked up the atmosphere, allowing himself to be the centre of attention, relishing every moment of it. If it wasn’t Bellatrix in his bed with him it was someone else, seeing to his most wicked fantasies at any moment he wanted.

He never knew what was done with Macmillan’s corpse. He never asked.

There had been one little glitch in the week’s festivities, though momentary. Not long after Macmillan’s demise, Severus felt his stomach lurch, and he had made his excuses to go into the woods to relieve himself. Once safely far away, he dropped to his knees and retched and vomited for several minutes, as if letting loose some poison that threatened to finish him off. To his horror, Severus suddenly realised he wasn’t alone.

A woman’s hand held out a packet of breath mints.

“Take one,” Bellatrix said.

Severus accepted gratefully.

Bellatrix laughed. “Most people get sick the first time. It’s not uncommon. Regulus was sick even after his fourth time. He’s such a little girl.”

“I bet you didn’t sick once,” Severus said. He kissed her lips.

“Of course not!” Bellatrix protested. “Never.” But then she shrugged. “I only kill those who deserve it. It’s not my fault that most people deserve it.” She smiled. “By the way, if you ever get sick again, the Dark Lord will know it.”

That was days ago. Severus lay in his slightly swirling bed, still recovering from another night’s drinking and from a female Death Eater who made him so aroused, he thought he might never be quite sane again. After she was done with her…favours, she left Severus to sleep and dream and strengthen himself for his next visitor.

So when the Dark Lord himself came into Severus’ room, Severus sat up as quickly as he dared. His head spun uncomfortably, but he tried to look alert and ready to go. The Dark Lord sat at his bedside, grinning mysteriously at him, scrutinsing him in the same that Dumbledore would. Severus closed his mind…most of it, anyway.

“You will leave today for your first mission,” the Dark Lord said officiously. “Lucius will give you the instructions. When you return, you will report straight to me, in five days’ time. I have very special plans for you, Severus. Do not disappoint me.”

“I won’t, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord placed a key in Severus’ hand—a Gringott’s key.

“What’s this?” Severus asked, mystified. Was he supposed to rob the vault?

“This is your vault, Severus,” the Dark Lord replied frankly. “I think you will appreciate its contents. You will need it for what you are to do for me. This is no free gift.”

“Of course not, sir.”

To Severus’ complete shock, the vault was filled from floor to ceiling with galleons—he had never seen so much gold in his entire life, and in fact, the sight of all these vast riches…his riches…made him more than a little nauseated. It was too much for any man, but of course, Severus knew there was a greater purpose too all this treasure. But as the Dark Lord said, this was no charity—there was always a price in the organisation.

Severus also found a green envelope with his name inscribed on it in thin silver letters. With a slightly shaking hand, Severus removed the note and read it carefully.

_Severus,  
Lucius will be waiting for you at the Rack and Noose at 6:00. From there you will start your mission. In the meantime, you are to go directly to Twillfit and Tattings and purchase yourself the most expensive and elegant wardrobe. For this mission and for all your future missions, you must cease to look like a poor schoolboy and start to look like a mature, professionally attired adult. Lucius should be your role model for how you should dress._

_Once you have made these purchases, have the proprietress send them on to Blackstone, but you are to wear black silk robes lined in green. Lucius is wearing the same thing._

_Do not fail me, Severus. I will know if you do._

_TDL_

 

Severus began to wonder exactly what the Dark Lord wanted him to do. Clearly it would be much more than grunt work—after all, he was to dress elegantly, like a prince. Secretly, Severus hoped he would not have to kill again—the whole episode disturbed him more than he would ever dare admit to anyone, especially after Bellatrix’s warning to him. 

Outside Gringott’s, he sauntered blithely down the crowded street, not really looking at anyone in particular. He wondered whether anyone would be able to tell that he was now a full-fledged Death Eater, off on his first mission for the Dark Lord. The Dark Mark prickled and burned deep into his left arm, almost scalding the muscle beneath. How much longer would it feel that way? Would his arm ever really feel the same again?

Off in the distance, Severus spotted a flash of red hair—and a young man wearing spectacles. Damn. Severus turned to head quickly into a shop, but before he could get far, Lily’s voice rang out.

“Severus!” she called brightly, pulling a reluctant Potter behind her.

“Oh, hi,” Severus replied coolly, trying to ignore Potter’s glare.

“So, how’s life?” Lily asked.

“Fine. You?”

She grinned warmly, and then lifted her left hand for him to see the sparkling diamond ring on her finger. Severus gasped, but reddened when Potter smirked at him. For a moment, he felt the air around him disappear.

“When did this happen?” Severus asked as steadily as he could, recovering quickly from the shock.

“Just a few days ago. The 7th, actually,” Lily replied.

“We were with family, actually,” Potter added, his voice like lances. “Say, Sniv, how’s your family?”

Severus suppressed a snarl. “Fine. Bloody perfect.”

“I heard your mother moved,” he said, but when Lily threw him a warning glance, he blanched.

“What?” Severus snapped. “Who told you that?”

“Oh…uh, I don’t know. Maybe it was someone else’s mother who moved,” Potter replied. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.”

“Don’t you ever mention my mother again,” Severus seethed. Too distracted and too angry to return to the pretense of pleasantries, he turned and swept away down the street, straight to Twillfit and Tattings.

It was unbelievable and yet, he should have known it would come to this. Severus couldn’t understand why he was so surprised by their engagement. They had been dating for some time now, after all. Intellectually, he knew that she belonged with Potter, that they were good for each other. Admitting that to himself, however, seemed nearly impossible, cruel, unfair.

Severus squared his shoulders, trying to push his grief and resentment out of his system. Onward, to take care of business.


	25. An Impertinent Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Severus inclined his head towards the Dark Lord, but before he could say an obsequious word, Regulus piped up._
> 
> _“Mum, have you ever heard of a man called Tom Riddle?” he asked simply, innocently. Severus grimaced as Mrs. Black’s face went white. Even the Dark Lord started slightly, something Severus had never seen happen before._
> 
> _In the next second, Mrs. Black slapped Regulus in the face, so hard he actually cried out in pain._
> 
> _“Get out of this room now!” she screeched._
> 
> _Stunned by her reaction, a teary-eyed Regulus threw down his fork and stormed out of the room, down the long corridor, and from what Severus could tell, out of the house. The door slammed so hard the portraits on the wall rattled._

All they did was kill.

First one, then four, then a family, then a party. Muggles, mudbloods, half-bloods, enemies. Occasionally, the deaths came quick, with a convenient _Avada Kedavra_. When he ran with Lucius alone, Severus could be assured of a fast, easy kill—Lucius cared more about volume than anything else.

Bellatrix, however, liked a good show.

It wasn’t enough to kill someone when he was with Bellatrix. With her, there was always some sort of ritual or routine or scenario. The victims would be bound, occasionally gagged, though not always, then tormented, bullied, terrorised and viciously tortured. Bellatrix had learned a few of Severus’ more choice spells, her favorite new pastime being the very slow, excessively bloody fingernail torture. As she ripped and tore at her victims, Bellatrix couldn’t help but laugh and joke about, as if she were enjoying a game of Gobstones.

Severus quickly learned that he didn’t have the option to throw his usual snark at Bellatrix at moments like this—things had changed now that he was officially in the organisation. He no longer had the excuse of being naïve or an dispassionate outsider. These were official missions for the Dark Lord, after all, serious business, and Severus, like everyone else, was fully expected to have a resolute focus and a very strong stomach. 

Strangely enough, Severus eventually found that the only way he could distract himself from the bloodbath was to participate in it, always so elegantly attired. He was a true professional, a master executioner, or so he portrayed himself as such. Severus frequently reminded himself that these individuals were not helpless victims but enemy combatants—they deserved no mercy and thus, they received none. Even still, when it came time for the actual killing, he wasn’t always so mentally prepared, though he had by now killed several times. It shamed him that each time he killed, his soul felt drained of energy, as if it were being torn to shreds.

He wondered about Bellatrix Lestrange and even about Lucius Malfoy. Severus got the idea that Lucius wasn’t as comfortable with killing as he liked to portray, though as he was a skilled Occlumens, it was hard for Severus to tell exactly what was going on in his heart. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was an easy read. In a sense, Severus admired that transparency in her, that she made no pretense of what she was. Bellatrix simply enjoyed killing and torture and sadism. They weren’t noble qualities by any means, but at least they were out there for all to see.

Continuing his affair with her, therefore, became complicated for Severus. He hadn’t quite gotten used to the icy touch of her skin, even in the midst of intense sexual encounters. Where his skin boiled in the throes of passion with her, she remained about the same. 

Strange.

* * * * *

When Regulus finally went down from Hogwarts in June, all business transactions with the organisation were set aside for a week of celebration at the Black mansion in London. Mrs. Black had decorated the entire house in Slytherin colours, including all the furniture, the expensive porcelain figurines and vases and the flowers, too. Kreacher and the other House Elves set to work on a massive feast for Regulus’ homecoming—with him, Regulus had brought a new friend, Barty Crouch, Jr.

“Doesn’t his father work for the Ministry?” Severus asked Lucius as they walked down Grimmauld Place together, with Narcissa in tow.

“His father is very powerful in the Ministry,” Narcissa pointed out. “But he has no idea that his son in involved with the organisation.”

“He’s a Death Eater?” Severus asked, more than a bit surprised that the Dark Lord would accept another underaged wizard.

Lucius grimaced. “We prefer the term _associate_ rather than _Death Eater_ ,” he lectured.

Severus shrugged.

“And no, he’s not,” Narcissa said. “He’ll be inducted this summer, like you were last summer.”

“At Blackstone?”

“Heavens no!” Narcissa replied with a laugh. “That was a special occasion. Barty has his talents but he’s no Severus Snape.”

Lucius smirked. “He’s been keeping Regulus busy this term.”

Narcissa grunted lightly. “Thank the gods,” she muttered.

By the time they all arrived at Number Twelve, the party had already started. Everyone was there, including the Averys, the Mulcibers, the Dolohovs, the Carrows, the Rosiers, the Goyles and Crabbes and various other Blacks that Severus had never met before. Bellatrix came with Rodolphus and Rabastan and some redheaded girl that Severus supposed was Rabastan’s girlfriend, though he’d never seen her before.

The house glittered like an ice palace.

Regulus was in all his glory, dancing wildly with Barty and then with Bellatrix and then with Rabastan’s girlfriend. He yelped and hooted and hollered like an excited ten year-old, all laughter and brightness, as if those months away from home and Death Eaters and his mother was a healthy change for him. Severus hoped, anyway. Perhaps now, Regulus could settle into his role as a…as an _associate_ and start to feel more enthusiastic about his duties. Severus noted how well Regulus looked, healthy and lean and strong, just as he had before he joined the organisation.

Severus stood to the side of the grand ballroom, drink in hand, watching everything going on around him. He watched as Regulus spotted Lucius, who had been deep in conversation with Igor Karkaroff, and he watched as Lucius pressed his lips together with pleasure at the sight of Regulus. Quickly but subtly, Lucius made his excuses to Karkaroff, furtively raised a glass to Regulus and disappeared out the door. In a flash, Regulus had disappeared, too, leaving a very sour-faced Narcissa alone to chat about cursed doilies with a Mrs. Travers.

A confused Barty staggered over to Severus, tipping his martini glass dangerously.

“Hey, Snape,” he said rather loudly. “How’s business?”

“Great,” Severus replied grandly. “You?”

“Fuckin’ amazing! Where’s Reg?”

“Shagging Malfoy, I should think.”

Barty looked stunned for a moment, but then his face brightened—he grinned broadly. “You’ve got a weird sense of humour, Snape. Later.” Barty cuffed Severus on the shoulder and stumbled off, apparently still in search of Regulus.

“Stupid sod,” Severus whispered to himself. He took another drink from the tray Kreacher held before him.

In time, the party wound down, though Regulus and Lucius never did reemerge from wherever they went. Still, the guests turned to leave, giving their thanks to Mrs. Black for her graciousness and hoping to see her soon and so on. Barty left, as did a glum Narcissa, accompanied not by her husband but by her sister and brother-in-law. Severus, too, turned to leave, hoping to return to the quiet of his room at the Leaky Cauldron where he was eager to finish the new wizarding spy novel.

“Severus, you’re staying the night, aren’t you?” Mrs. Black asked.

“Oh, well, I…”

“You must, my dear,” she insisted. “We’re having a special guest in about an hour.”

“The Dark Lord is coming to wish Regulus congratulations,” Mr. Black added.

“I believe he wishes to see you, too,” Mrs. Black said. “He mentioned you the other day.”

“He is very pleased with your work,” Mr. Black pointed out.

“I do have a new report to give him,” Severus said, squaring his shoulders. “Thank you for your kind offer.”

It was well past three in the morning when the Dark Lord made his appearance, silent as always, yet potent and intimidating. By then, Regulus had returned downstairs, letting Lucius out the door when his mother and father were out of sight. He looked slightly rumpled but his eyes sparkled with impish energy. Severus rolled his eyes and shook his head mirthfully.

“Have fun?” he asked.

Regulus plopped down on the couch next to Severus, sticking his leg onto Severus’ lap. Severus shoved it off. Regulus laughed.

“It’s been a long time,” he said.

“What about Barty?”

Regulus snorted. “Him? He’s good for some things, but he has absolutely no clue when it comes to sex.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should have taught him.”

“He’s hopeless. I think he likes girls.”

“How tragic for you.”

Regulus laughed, batting the side of Severus’ head with a little silver pillow.

“Cut it out!” Severus groused.

“Aren’t you excited? The Dark Lord is coming!”

“And I do not expect my Death Eaters to behave like little children,” the Dark Lord said softly as he entered the salon, arm in arm with Mrs. Black.

Regulus jumped up from the couch, blushing deep red. He bowed his head submissively. “I am so sorry, my Lord,” he said. “It will not happen again.”

Severus felt a pang of disappointment at that.

“Well, Severus,” the Dark Lord said, “you have good news for me?”

“I do, sir. We got two Aurors last week, though it took a bit of doing this time.”

The Dark Lord frowned. “And why was that?”

“They were trained by Alestor Moody. They had certain skills we hadn’t seen before. In truth, my Lord, one of them nearly got Lucius, but I managed to finish him off just in time.”

“Did any escape?” the Dark Lord asked.

“One. Alice Longbottom. I regret that I fired a half second too late. The bitch had already disapparated.”

“And you shall not let that happen again, correct?” the Dark Lord asked dangerously.

“Correct, sir. I apologise.”

The Dark Lord paused, then nodded. “That Longbottom woman is key, you know, as is her husband. Other associates worked on them before to try and turn them in our favour, as both of them are purebloods. Sadly, the idiots couldn’t see reason.”

“How many have you turned, my Lord?” Regulus asked.

“Not nearly enough. We tried with other pure families, even the Potters, and while a few felt converted to our side of things, those like the Potters and that insipid Arthur Weasley and his fat wife remain obstinate.”

“I heard Potter married a filthy mudblood,” Regulus announced. Severus blanched.

“An unfortunate choice,” the Dark Lord said disdainfully. “Though I hear the woman is particularly talented with Potions. I’m half tempted to Imperius her, keep her hostage, exploit what she knows. That could be most fruitful.”

Severus frowned. “Weasley’s rather low on the Ministry food chain, isn’t he, sir?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

“He is, but he is also pureblooded, as is his wife. Some in both their lines are with us.” The Dark Lord gave Severus an approving look, something that made Regulus start with envy. “You are doing exceedingly well, Severus. I am very pleased with your work. Bella tells me you are a skilled marksman and a terror to unarmed muggle filth.”

“I do what I can, sir,” Severus replied diffidently. Inside, he glowed.

* * * * *

The next morning, Severus and Regulus ate alone in Regulus’ room, looking out over the street below. Kreacher had brought them piles of scones and clotted cream and raspberry preserves, plus tea and bacon and fresh apples. Regulus ate noisily and voraciously, while Severus calmly and methodically ate his single scone and half piece of bacon.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Regulus asked. “You’re not getting depressed again, are you?”

“Why would I?” Severus asked, offended. “I prefer not to eat like a wild pig, unlike some.”

Regulus stuck his tongue out at Severus, then helped himself to a fourth scone. “Gods! I’m starving!” he shouted.

A terrible thought crossed Severus’ mind—would he know? What would the risk be in asking the question? Could he count on Regulus to be discreet?

“Regulus,” Severus started, setting down his tea with a light clink of china. “Does the name Tom Riddle sound familiar to you?”

“Tom Riddle?” Regulus repeated, his mouth full of bacon. “I’m not sure, actually. I think my mother might have known a Tom Riddle once, back at school. Why?”

“It’s just a name I encountered recently.”

“An enemy of the Dark Lord?”

“Maybe, though I’m under the impression he’s a dark wizard himself.”

“I’ll ask Mum.”

Severus nearly dropped his scone. “No, Regulus, that’s quite alright. It was just a question. I can look him up in London.”

Regulus shrugged and tucked into the rest of his breakfast, now stealing a half piece of bacon from Severus’ plate. Severus jerked his plate towards himself and snarled.

The question of Tom Riddle’s identity did not go away, to Severus’ annoyance. Invited to dinner that evening before the Dark Lord departed for a new and very clandestine mission, unknown to any in the room, including Mrs. Black. They ate lightly that night—just pumpkin soup and fresh salad and tomato slices and grilled salmon. To Severus’ amazement, Regulus ate every bite of his dinner, despite his massive breakfast.

And then, Regulus made a huge mistake. It happened just as Mrs. Black opened her mouth to compliment the Dark Lord on his deft assassination of two particularly dangerous Aurors, right out in the open. The Dark Lord gave sketchy details, highlighting a small portion of the bloodshed that undoubtedly decorated the scene, and of course, how simple it was simply to make their hearts turn to stone—another of Severus’ experimental spells.

“I must say, Severus, that spell is particularly wonderful,” he said. “It kills efficiently, but with far greater pain and agony for the victim. I shall use it frequently.”

Severus inclined his head towards the Dark Lord, but before he could say an obsequious word, Regulus piped up.

“Mum, have you ever heard of a man called Tom Riddle?” he asked simply, innocently. Severus grimaced as Mrs. Black’s face went white. Even the Dark Lord started slightly, something Severus had never seen happen before.

In the next second, Mrs. Black slapped Regulus in the face, so hard he actually cried out in pain.

“Get out of this room now!” she screeched.

Stunned by her reaction, a teary-eyed Regulus threw down his fork and stormed out of the room, down the long corridor, and from what Severus could tell, out of the house. The door slammed so hard the portraits on the wall rattled.

“Walburga, was that necessary?” the Dark Lord asked imperiously.

“My dear, perhaps you should apologise,” Mr. Black added.

“I quite agree,” the Dark Lord said. “Walburga, I can’t have you going about abusing my associates, can I?”

She blushed lightly. “Of course, my Lord. I shall do it straight away.”

“When he gets home,” Severus grumbled under his breath.

The Dark Lord sat back luxuriously in his chair and rubbed his chin. “I wonder where Regulus heard the name,” he mused. “That’s not a name one hears any more.”

Severus hesitated, wondering suddenly whether this was a forbidden name. Nonetheless, he also knew that the Dark Lord was a supreme Legilimens, able to detect the slightest deception.

“My Lord,” he therefore confessed, “Regulus heard that name from me. I’m sorry if I caused trouble. I had asked him a question out of curiosity, though I now admit that perhaps I should have kept silent about it.”

But the Dark Lord waved his hand dismissively. “No no, Severus, it’s quite alright, in fact. As it happens I am quite familiar with the name Tom Riddle, though I think that this is not the proper setting in which to tell you more about him.”

What could that mean? Severus salivated with anticipation, hoping that what he might learn would help him to track down this man and finish him off, for Eileen’s sake.


	26. Blackstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Besides the occasional visit from the Dark Lord, he saw no one else, and in reality, Severus wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else. After he recovered from the initial shock of the Dark Lord’s revelation, Severus had managed to make a certain peace with his identity. He no longer viewed it as a transgression but rather, as an opportunity. After all, the Dark Lord was supremely powerful, connected to the darkest wizards in the world, and the master of them all. To be his son was like being the heir apparent, the up-and-coming legacy._

The very next day, Severus was ordered to Blackstone, to await the Dark Lord’s arrival. He was to arrive alone, speak to no one but the House Elves, and tell no one, including the Blacks, of his whereabouts.

The palatial manor seemed ten times bigger now that he was there alone. Everything echoed in gentle waves, as if he were walking in an empty museum, among priceless treasures and works of art. For several hours as he waited for the Dark Lord to arrive, Severus walked up and down the long, empty corridors, taking in every portrait, every landscape and seascape, examining each sculpture and elegant, ancient piece of furniture—boring.

Night fell, and still, no Dark Lord. Severus ate a solitary supper of ham and vegetables and fine white wine, and it was only as he took his last sip from the crystal glass that he heard the faint sound of footsteps growing closer. Shadows danced in the firelight and out of thin air, the Dark Lord had taken a seat at the other end of the long dining room table. He lifted a hand to wave Severus forward. Severus obeyed.

“This is to be your home for six months, Severus,” he said. “You are to receive no visitors, other than myself or a messenger.”

“Sir?” Severus blurted out, taken aback by this seeming isolation.

“The time has come for you to know everything, you see. I hadn’t wanted to tell you at this point, and in truth, I am more than miffed that Regulus has, shall we say, forced my hand. But don’t busy your mind about him. He will pay for his transgression.”

Severus gulped.

“But you, on the other hand,” the Dark Lord continued, “will enter a new phase of your career. It is time you know who you really are. Years ago, you see, I determined that I wanted to return to Hogwarts and to have a position of influence over the students. As you well know, the school holds the next generation of witches and wizards, and it was my goal to bring the future of our world into our way of thinking.”

“That is an admirable ambition, sir,” Severus agreed, listening intently as the Dark Lord continued his story.

“The problem was, despite my admirable ambitions, was that Albus Dumbledore did not appreciate my desire to contribute to the atmosphere of the school, and thus, he flatly turned me down.”

“Then he’s a greater fool than I thought,” Severus mused.

“Perhaps. But his refusal did not disabuse me of my desire to create a permanent presence at the school, though now, I would have to do it by proxy.”

“Tom Riddle?”

The Dark Lord smirked. “Nearly. But you don’t have the scenario quite right. You see, it wasn’t enough for me to send any old proxy. I could have relied on a select few of my associates to do the job correctly, but I wanted more. I wanted my own blood there.”

Severus cocked his head to the side, thinking fast. “So he’s a relation of yours?”

The Dark Lord laughed wickedly. He leaned forward in his chair to continue his story. “You see, Severus, I needed a…a host. I needed someone who was perfect in every way, though primarily in terms of ability, in cunning, in sheer resourcefulness. At first, I found no one, though I searched high and low. My first thought was to have a younger girl, a Seventh Year, but to my dismay, none met my requirements.”

Severus felt a chill wash through him sickeningly, fearing what the Dark Lord might say next. Nonetheless, the Dark Lord continued on.

“I returned to London to consider my options, unsure where to find the exact woman I needed to produce my legacy.” He narrowed his eyes at a trembling Severus and grinned. “And then I happened into the apothecary shop, to replenish my supply of belladonna. That’s when I saw her, so at ease in her environment, so witty and strong and majestic. She was perfect. To my dismay, however, she was less than eager to come with me, and I unfortunately had to use more persuasive means to acquire her cooperation.”

“You Imperiused her?” Severus asked. His throat tightened as his heart pounded. He thought he might faint just then as the horrible truth engulfed him like fire.

“I had no intention of harming her, Severus,” the Dark Lord replied. “To the contrary, I was excessively kind to her, making her as comfortable as I possibly could until I was assured of my success with her.”

“You mean her pregnancy?” Severus choked.

“Precisely. So far, the plan went seamlessly, perfectly. But I should have anticipated your mother’s independent spirit. Indeed, that was part of my attraction to her as a host. She undoubtedly was given a very wrong idea about what had just occurred between us, no doubt by Albus Dumbledore. Thus, her reaction to this great honour was the opposite of what I wanted. And then, she married that muggle, that Snape fellow, and for a long time, I lost all contact with her. I was pleased, however, to learn of his demise. It was by her hand, correct?”

Severus nodded, then shut his eyes for a moment, desperate to make sense of what he had just been told, nearly beside himself with confusion and…fear. He shut his mind desperately against the Dark Lord, terrified that he might detect his fury which Severus battled to suppress.

The Dark Lord sighed, almost paternally. “When your mother disappeared with you into the muggle world, I could only hope that she would do the right thing and send you to Hogwarts. I had a feeling she would, but I couldn’t entirely bank on that.”

“That would be imprudent, sir,” Severus whispered, his voice shaking.

“Exactly. I needed a Plan B, and quite frankly, the only other woman whom I would have even begun to consider as a host was my dear friend, Walburga Black. Naturally, she was more than willing to comply. We mapped out precisely when to conduct our transaction, making sure that the feat was accomplished conclusively.”

“Regulus,” Severus said, feeling faint all over again. He sat back in his chair, reaching with a quaking hand to knead his aching forehead.

“He has…certain qualities, to be sure, but he is nothing compared to you,” the Dark Lord pronounced. “And once I knew you were safely ensconced at Hogwarts as a student, complete with a wonderfully dark reputation as a mere First Year, I gave Regulus back to them.”

That sounded odd. “What do you mean, sir?”

The Dark Lord chuckled. “Oh, they raised him, Walburga and Orion, but there had been a long understanding that he was my own and that they were surrogates. Once I knew you were in the world and well on your way to becoming everything I dreamed you would be, I no longer needed him, and thus, their surrogacy ended.”

Severus didn’t know what to say. He felt sick, short of breath, overwhelmed. “Does he know?”

“Regulus? No. What’s more, I have no intention of telling him. Considering the childish and reckless way he behaves, he doesn’t deserve the honour of calling himself my son. You, however, conduct yourself always as the cool, collected professional killer that you have become.” The Dark Lord’s fiery red eyes grew wild just then. “You are a master of death, my dear Severus. In a very short amount of time, you will be ready to assume your intended post.”

Severus’ heart sank. “At Hogwarts?”

The Dark Lord smirked. “Precisely. But you are not quite ready. There is some training you will need, as you will no doubt be in the presence of Albus Dumbledore on a daily basis. He has, as you know, formidable abilities, so you will need to know how to surpass him.”

That sounded good.

“You have that much faith in my abilities?” Severus asked, incredulous.

“You possess the very best of both myself and your mother. In fact,” he added, raising one eyebrow, “there may come a time when you surpass even me.”

“I doubt that, my Lord.”

“You are lethal, Severus. And you are passionate. Together, that is an unbeatable combination. Now then, as to your special training, you will need the Vampire Stone at all times. Do not put it away. Do not lose it.”

Instructions. Directives. Advice. Orders. This was the stuff of the remainder of their conversation that night. On and on. Do this. Think that. Use your power like this or like that. By the end of the long evening, Severus felt a gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t get his mother’s anguished face out of his mind. Severus wanted to believe that the Dark Lord was right, that it was a great honour to be called his son, his own. He wanted to embrace that reality, draw it into himself and rest in it.

To his utter shame, he could not.

Suddenly, Severus understood Regulus. It wasn’t because of their shared bloodline…he hedged at the word _brother_ …but rather, because Severus found himself at war with what he was so sure was supposed to be true and good.

He didn’t know what to do.

* * * * *

His first few days alone at Blackstone prompted a hollow emptiness in Severus’ heart and mind. He was tempted to run, to get out of there and start over somewhere new and unfamiliar. Severus wanted to divorce himself from the world. He felt dirty, tainted, wrong. For days he barely ate anything, slept but an hour or so a night, mostly content to sit at the long, ebony dining table, the very spot where he discovered the truth about himself.

Severus stared long and hard at the Dark Lord’s now empty chair, distracting himself by its intricate carvings and almost runic design. He reached out a cold hand to touch its arm, then its back, trying to sense some magical remainder of his…of the Dark Lord. All he felt, however, was the wood’s supple smoothness, its tender curve at the small of the back, the sleek glide of silk under his searching fingers.

He sat back, now chewing on a hangnail, thinking and thinking. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Severus had hated Tobias Snape, hated muggles because of him, fostered years of violent resentment because of the abuse he took—so many nights alone, locked away in a small closet, whimpering and sobbing and wishing for peace and some little slice of joy. But Tobias wasn’t his father—that was certain. Severus wondered what sort of father the Dark Lord would have been, had he raised him. It seemed so odd to him—the Dark Lord was not exactly the nurturing type, and Severus wondered how he would have been treated by him.

All he had was the Dark Lord’s word. Like every other Death Eater, Severus knew that the Dark Lord’s word was law. He was the brave leader of a great and worthy cause, fighting for the purity of the wizarding world. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Dumbledore had poisoned Eileen’s mind against him, made her misinterpret his actions. Perhaps this wasn’t really rape at all. Severus knew all too well what rape was—he had witnessed it many times, watching with abject horror as Lucius or Rodolphus or even Regulus would tear at some pathetic victim. This was something Severus never bring himself to do.

Every woman sounded like Eileen.

Finally, Severus knew he needed to get outside a bit, to feel the spark and fire of the Vampire Stone as it connected him with the elements. Pocketing the little stone, Severus headed out, heading for the beach below the estate. The waves crashed against the rocks, their rushing and whooshing giving Severus a sense of timing and structure. In fact, he found himself at peace for the first time in days, and as he waded into the shallow, cold waters, Vampire Stone in hand, he shivered pleasantly.

He smiled.

That smile continued and deepened over the next few weeks as Severus began to put into practice the Dark Lord’s intricate instructions. Suddenly, Severus was doing incredible, unfathomable things with magic. He could conjure up the most delicate objects, manipulate the minds of distant people, alter the movements of the waves swirling around his bare ankles day after day after day.

It was glorious.

His greatest feat was his newest ability—with some careful coaching from the Dark Lord, Severus learned not only to levitate himself high into the air, but with practice, he learned how to fly through the air as if on a broomstick. Those were his best days, when Severus could barrel through the clouds, fast as lightening, feeling the air whip through his hair.

* * * * *

As October slipped into November, the trees turned from green to red to orange and yellow until by mid-month, the dark branches stood bare and black. Besides the occasional visit from the Dark Lord, he saw no one else, and in reality, Severus wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else. After he recovered from the initial shock of the Dark Lord’s revelation, Severus had managed to make a certain peace with his identity. He no longer viewed it as a transgression but rather, as an opportunity. After all, the Dark Lord was supremely powerful, connected to the darkest wizards in the world, and the master of them all. To be his son was like being the heir apparent, the up-and-coming legacy.

This could be fun.

Lily, of course, would be horrified, but Severus had to set that aside for now. Besides, she had made her choice by marrying Potter, and Severus knew he had to live with that. Even a time-turner couldn’t change his present reality, nor did he wish to change it any more. He had new goals, new powers, infinitely more opportunities to gain control.

So it came as an unwelcome surprise when Regulus Black showed up at Blackstone, furiously pacing before the roaring hearth in the library, his face wet with new tears. Astonishingly to Severus, Regulus was sober. Regulus blew his nose and tossed the handkerchief into the fire, then turned to face Severus.

“Regulus,” Severus started. “What are you doing here?”

When Regulus didn’t answer right way, Severus frowned. Regulus looked away, back at the lapping flames, new tears spilling down his pale cheeks.

“Narcissa is pregnant,” he said, his voice quavering.

Severus frowned, guessing at what Regulus was about to say. “And that’s bad?”

Regulus sighed dramatically. “It’s great! I mean, I’m really happy for her! She’s having a boy, according to the Healer. They’re already deciding on names.” He sniffled and sobbed pitifully.

“So what’s the problem?” he asked, standing stiffly in the doorway.

“It’s over,” Regulus lamented. “He doesn’t want me any more!”

“Lucius?”

“He just dropped me! Just like that! Like I was some sort of toy or something!”

“Bastard,” Severus muttered. “Regulus, I…”

“Don’t you dare!” Regulus shouted through new tears. “Don’t you dare tell me you told me so! I don’t want to hear it!”

“I wasn’t going to say that, Regulus,” Severus replied sternly.

“Yes you were! That’s what everyone has been saying! I told you so I told you so I told you so! I don’t fucking care! I’m so upset about this, Severus! I’m so angry! No one uses a Black like that and just casts him aside!”

Severus sat down by the fire, trying to encourage the still pacing and raging Regulus to sit. “Well it’s done, isn’t it? Forget about him.”

Regulus plopped down next to Severus and leaned his head on his shoulder. Severus allowed him. “I can’t forget about him, Sev. I was in love with him!”

“You were in lust with him, Regulus. Get real.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“It isn’t! Look at how he treats people! He’s a right bastard!”

Regulus dried his eyes and his face. “I hate being used,” he said darkly. “It’s not right. I’m not some servant that can be shoved aside! I’m worth a hell of a lot more than that!” Suddenly, he laughed. “I’m sorry, man. You probably think I’m some sort of Drama Queen or something.”

“Yeah. But that’s nothing new.”

Regulus stood up. “I think I’ll go look up Barty. He’s usually good for a quick roll.”

Severus smirked. “What was that about using people?”

Regulus chuckled. “I’ll just remember not to swear undying love to him while I’m shagging him.” He headed towards the door, but stopped. “Thanks for listening to me, man. You’re the best.”

“Nonsense. I’ll be using this information to blackmail you.”

Regulus laughed. “I love you, man. You’re like a brother to me. Sometimes I wish you really were my brother.”

Snape frowned. “Don’t get your hopes up.”


	27. Regulus' Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But in Regulus strode, curiously focused, strangely sober. Severus wondered what was going on. Surely, Regulus was still a bawling mess from his nasty breakup with Lucius—after the way Regulus was treated, Severus didn’t blame him for falling apart in the most appalling of ways. Naturally, Regulus neglected to knock. Of course, this was his parents’ house, so Severus supposed he was free to come and go as he pleased._
> 
> _But still…_

She screeched horribly, wrestling frantically, desperately trying to get out of Rodolphus’ tight grasp on her. The girl’s long red hair flew like autumn leaves in the wind as she struggled against the close, dark circle of Death Eaters.

“Mum!” she cried out. “Stop it! Stop hurting her! STOP!!! PLEASE!!!”

But her mother was already dead, bloodied up and half dressed and violated. Her husband, Edgar Bones, lay dead in a corner, his two sons next to him. The screaming, crying girl was the only one left. Severus, along with Rodolphus, Bellatrix, Rabastan, Lucius and Barty had deftly infiltrated the Bones’ home, immediately killing Edgar and the boys, and then working slowly and brutally as they dealt with the women. Severus began with the Empty Talon curse on the mother, but when it seemed she could take no more, he stood ready to kill her quickly.

That’s when Lucius stopped him, taking over the torture personally as Severus stood by, riveted by the young girl still struggling in Rodolphus’ arms. She looked so wounded, though her body had not been harmed yet, and as Severus watched her watch her mother being so horribly tormented, he made a decision. The girl whimpered and cowered as he approached.

Steeling himself, he turned to Rodolphus and smirked. “Step aside, Lestrange,” he said, his voice smooth and silky. Inside, his stomach felt sick.

Severus pointed his wand at the trembling girl who had now fallen to her knees, weeping and sobbing pitifully. Lucius Malfoy looked on in eager anticipation, wondering what Severus would do to her. Her red hair hung limp around her ashen face, and for a quick moment, Severus couldn’t look at her.

“Avada Kedavra,” he hissed, and in a flash of green light, the girl was dead. Severus could feel a cold sweat snaking down his back, and for a quick moment he felt tempted to turn his wand on himself. The girl lay so peacefully now, her lovely red hair like a halo around her still head.

Lucius snarled. “What the hell was that, Snape?” he growled.

“You stupid git!” Bellatrix shouted. “Why did you do that?”

“The party’s over,” Severus replied simply. He turned to walk out the door, but Lucius stopped him with a rough hand on the shoulder.

“We weren’t done with her!” Bellatrix snarled.

“Yeah!” Rodolphus echoed harshly.

“You had no right to do that!” Lucius bellowed.

Severus rounded him, furious. “I had every right, Malfoy! Who do you think you’re talking to? The party is OVER, got it?”

“You overstepped your bounds, boy,” Lucius seethed.

“The Dark Lord instructed us to KILL, nothing else!” Severus shot back. “As far as I’m concerned, Malfoy, YOU’RE the one who’s overstepped his bounds!”

With that, he stormed out of the wreck that was once the Bones residence, and without waiting for the rest, he disapparated back to Blackstone.

* * * * *

Severus spent the next day in sheer terror, wondering whether the Dark Lord would be angry about his decision to kill the Bones girl too early. Was it her age that prompted him to step in and spare her further pain? Did he take pity on her because of her gender? Severus paced up and down before the roaring fire in the hearth, knowing all too well why he did it. But now he wasn’t so sure he could explain that to the Dark Lord, should he demand an answer from him.

His heart felt sick.

He wondered where she was, how she was doing. Was she happy married to Potter, or did she regret it? Severus wondered whether Lily would have a child soon, or if they would wait until they were a bit older. He hoped they would wait—in truth, he hoped she would regret her choice and rush back to him for comfort and burning affection that he still longed to give her.

She never came. In fact, as far as Severus had heard from various sources, Lily and Potter were disgracefully happy together, already building a life of their own. He scowled and poured himself a strong drink, which he threw back in one gulp.

He wasn’t expecting company, especially not Regulus Black.

But in Regulus strode, curiously focused, strangely sober. Severus wondered what was going on. Surely, Regulus was still a bawling mess from his nasty breakup with Lucius—after the way Regulus was treated, Severus didn’t blame him for falling apart in the most appalling of ways. Naturally, Regulus neglected to knock. Of course, this was his parents’ house, so Severus supposed he was free to come and go as he pleased.

But still…

Regulus didn’t stop to joke about or fling himself playfully at Severus, as he normally would. In fact, there wasn’t a single playful thing about Regulus. His dark eyes were intense but peaceful, as if he had come to some grand conclusion about life or love or magic. Regulus went straight to the sofa and sat down deliberately, mulling over in his mind what to say or how to explain his unexpected intrusion.

“You still keep strange hours, Black,” Severus said, masking his annoyance. Mostly he was just concerned. “You considering becoming a vampire?”

Regulus ran his fingers through his black waves once, twice, three times before he responded, as if each flip of his hair somehow cemented his courage to speak. “I, uh, I just came to see you one more time.”

Severus frowned at that cryptic remark, wondering at the dramatics. “One more time? You leaving?”

Regulus looked down, somewhat abashed suddenly. “Yeah, I am.”

“Where?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Dark Lord’s business?”

Regulus hesitated. “Sort of. Related to the Dark Lord anyway.”

Severus sat at his side, now intrigued. “A spy mission? An assassination?”

Regulus hesitated again. “A military maneuver.”

Severus laughed. “Since when did you ever do anything military?”

“Since today,” Regulus replied darkly. He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair again. “The last time you saw me I was a mess.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“I told you then that no one uses a Black and gets away with it.”

“You were complete psycho that night. Talk about mood swings. You look well recovered. I’m glad to see you sober for a change.”

Regulus nodded, half grinning. “Thanks for that. I feel better, actually. I’ve taken a lot of time since then to sort of think about things, especially to think about myself. It’s been a hard time, but it’s been good, too. I think I’ve finally gained some perspective on things…on life, and I know now what I have to do. Severus, can you keep a big secret?”

“You know I can.”

“I know about you, by the way,” Regulus said. “And I know about me, too. Not too long ago I overheard Mum and Dad talking, that is, Mum and Orion.”

“My gods, Regulus!” Severus exclaimed. “What an awful way to hear about it.”

Regulus nodded in agreement. He sniffled. “Yeah, I was pretty freaked out about it all at first, but…on the other hand it sort of cemented in my mind what I needed to do. It motivated me. Does that sound strange?”

Severus froze, not sure how to react to this. He still hadn’t fully accepted his status as the Dark Lord’s heir and legacy, nor that Regulus was his rejected half-brother.

“Everything about you tonight is strange, Regulus,” he finally replied. “I hardly know you.”

“Yeah. Hey, man, it’s okay that you didn’t tell me about the Dark Lord. I bet you didn’t trust me, right?” Regulus said.

“I didn’t know how you’d take it, to be honest,” Severus replied. “You were treated like carrion.”

Regulus nodded. “So you agree? That the Dark Lord treats people like carrion?”

Severus glared at him. “What the hell are you doing, Black?” he snapped. “You can’t set me up like that and get away with it!”

“I’m not setting you up, man, I swear!” Regulus dropped his voice to a whisper. “Hey, what’s that spell you used? The one that keeps people from listening in?”

Severus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door. “Muffliato!” he said, then turned back to Regulus. “So?”

“Severus, I’m going to defy him. I’m going to defy the Dark Lord, just as soon as I leave this place.”

“WHAT?” Severus bellowed, jumping to his feet. “Are you MAD? Are you suicidal?”

“I know exactly what I’m doing, Sev. Finding out about you and me sort of confirmed what I’d been thinking about for a while, you know, about being used. After Lucius dumped me, I really did go to Barty that night, fully intending to take advantage of him, and then I remembered what you had said to me. It just started me thinking and…”

“Sometimes thinking too much can be dangerous.”

“I don’t care any more. He uses everybody, Sev! Me, you, our mothers, Lucius, even my House Elf! He’s toxic, Sev! He’s a blight on wizardkind!”

“I can’t hear this, Regulus,” Severus replied harshly. “You have to leave here now.”

“I’m not leaving until I explain myself to you. I…won’t see you again and…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Regulus looked Severus in the eye. “I’ll be dead before the week is up, Sev. This is the very last thing I’m going to do in my life, and I’m determined to do for the right reasons! Nothing is going to stop me. Not even you.”

Severus went stark white. “Whoa whoa! WHAT? DEAD? What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?”

Regulus looked away. “I won’t survive this, but…”

“Wait a second!” Severus cried out frantically. “What exactly are you planning to do that’s so bloody dangerous?”

“I can’t tell you that, Sev. I promised myself when I made this choice that I didn’t want to endanger you.”

“Then why say anything to me at all?” Severus cried, nearly breaking down.

Regulus hesitated. “Because I couldn’t do this without seeing you once more. I don’t want you to think I just disappeared or ran away like a bloody coward. I…want you to think well of me.” He blushed.

Severus sat back and shook his head violently. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Regulus! You can’t do this! I won’t allow you to throw your life away over him!”

“He wants me dead anyway,” Regulus said quietly. Before Severus could respond, Regulus continued. “He’s tired of me, and he’s tired of the fact that I can’t kill any more. He can’t use me any more. Don’t you get it, Sev? Remember how I always thought it was my fault! I was weak, I had no guts, I was the one with the problem. Remember?”

Severus nodded as tears flowed down his sallow cheeks.

Regulus went on. “I suddenly realised how wrong I was. I’m not weak! I’m not the one with the problem! I thought that because that’s what he wanted me to think! That’s what they all wanted me to think, that I’m a silly, girly little queer. It’s not right, how they treated me, Sev, and I’m not going to let them keep abusing me like this.”

“Then run,” Severus said, sniffling back more tears. He grabbed Regulus by the arm and held his shoulders. “Just go away and hide! Go to Dumbledore! He can help you! You don’t have to die over this!”

“I don’t want to be helped, Sev, not when I know a way of thwarting him for good. I’m too angry about this. I’m determined to get him back for what he’s done to all of us.” Regulus grinned boyishly. “He has a way of preserving his soul so that if anything should happen to him, he won’t totally die.”

“You mean unicorn blood?” Severus asked.

“Better than unicorn blood. It’s called a Horcrux.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “What’s a Horcrux?”

“I don’t know the whole thing about them, but I do know that you use a common object to hold the bit of your soul, like for storage.” Regulus reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a golden pendant on a chain. “Take a look at that, big brother.”

Severus scowled. “Big half brother.” The pendant was beautiful, intricately designed…with the mark of Salazar Slytherin on it. “What’s this?”

“A historical artifact,” Regulus pronounced proudly. “Or at least a copy of one. I’m going to steal the real one and replace it with this fake! That way when he goes to retrieve the real one, it’ll be gone and so will he!” He grinned proudly, his eyes alive and bright with mischief.

Severus could only glower at him. “You’re going to die over a locket?”

“You don’t get it, Sev! It’s not just a locket! It’s a piece of him, a piece of eternity for him. I know he’s got more of these stashed around, but he’ll have one less. That means he’ll die that much sooner.” Regulus paused, troubled by Severus’ deep frown. “I hate him, Sev. I hate everything he stands for. I hate what he’s done to me and to my parents and my brother…and you. The longer he lives, the more destruction he brings. He has to die.”

“But you don’t!”

“The place where this thing is hidden, I won’t make it out alive. I know that already, and I’m okay with it. He’ll just hunt me down anyway, I mean, come on! I’m his son! He’ll know some special way of finding me and killing me horribly anyway, so I figure I want to die on my own terms.”

Severus thought. “Can I help you? Is there another way? I mean…”

Regulus chuckled. “No, but thanks for offering. Your time will come to defy him, Sev, but it’s not now. But my time has come, and if I don’t do this, I never will, and he’ll never be destroyed. You’re just going to have to understand that.” He stood up and turned to leave.

But just then, Severus grabbed him and pulled him into a crushing embrace, new tears flowing. “Don’t leave, Regulus,” he whispered. “This is all too fast, too soon. I need to understand this!”

“You will one day, man. I know you will. You’ll understand it when you can’t take it any more and you’re ready to defy him for good.”

“Does Sirius know?” Severus asked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“I have no intention of telling him, actually. It’s for his own protection that he doesn’t know. I don’t want the Dark Lord coming after him and destroying him, too. But you know what, Sev? Sirius was right all along. I was just too brainwashed to see it. I wish I’d listened to him.”

Severus sighed dramatically. “And instead, you listened to me.”

“This isn’t your fault, Sev. I’d been brainwashed long before I ever met you. And remember, you tried to get me to wait! You were the one who saw my fear and wanted me to think! No one else wanted that from me. No one else thought I could think or should think. They just wanted me to shut the fuck up and enter and nothing else.”

Severus looked away, trying desperately to stop his hands from shaking. He thought again of the redheaded girl and her dead family. He wanted…but no, not yet. 

Regulus smiled. “Hey, Sev, will you make me a promise?”

Severus shut his eyes for a moment, solidifying that picture of Regulus in his mind—grinning, up to trouble, eager to take a dare. “What?”

“Never lose that snark.”

They laughed.

“It’s your true art form,” Regulus said.

“I’ll do my best,” Severus replied, laughing again. But he stopped, realising that in mere minutes, he would never see his half brother ever again in this life. “I love you, Regulus,” he said.

Regulus smirked. “I love you, too, man. Hey, I got my wish, right?”

“What wish?”

“Remember how I always said I wished you were my brother? Well you are! See? I’m psychic!”

“You’re psycho, not psychic.”

Regulus laughed. “I’m sorry I tried to get with you before. If I’d known we were related…”

“You still would have tried.”

Regulus shrugged. “Probably. When your parents are cousins like mine are, it’s sort of a family legacy, I guess.”

Severus forced a smile. “If you tell anyone I bawled like a schoolgirl, I’ll haunt you into the afterlife.”

“Somehow, I believe you,” Regulus replied, laughing. “Look, man, I gotta go. I’m meeting my partner in crime in a few minutes.” Regulus placed his hands on Severus’ shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You’re tough as nails, Sev. You’ve got a good heart, too, a strong conscience. I know you’ll do the right thing. Just don’t wait too long, alright? Promise?”

Severus nodded. “Whatever this thing is you’re doing, do it right. Don’t fail in this mission.”

“I won’t. I swear it.”

“Good bye, Regulus.”

“Good bye, Sev. Later, man.”


	28. The Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
>  In the many months that have passed since I left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I have had the opportunity to look back on my time there. As time as passed, I have come to appreciate and indeed, to cherish the education I received from you and your esteemed colleagues._
> 
> _I write this letter in hopes that one day I will be able to join the Hogwarts staff, particularly in the post of Divination teacher. It is my desire to meet with you and to discuss the possibility of taking that post. Many things have transpired since I last saw you, and I am eager to make a positive change in the direction my life has taken. Joining your staff would set me in that direction, and I believe that with your wise guidance, I can be of service to the wizarding world in a good way._
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you well, and I look forward to your response._
> 
> _Sincerely,  
>  Severus Snape_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author note: the words of the Prophecy are quoted directly from OotP

He was just gone, just like that. No mention of Regulus Black. Not a single word from anyone, including the Dark Lord. For Severus, the silence was deafening, and it also gave him pause. What would happen if he were to defy the Dark Lord? Would it be done in secret, or would he come out into the open to challenge his father? Would they duel, or would the challenge be quieter in nature, a secret game of cat-and-mouse?

December ended with lots of snow and no word of Regulus Black—Severus pined achingly, wondering how his brother died and what he might have gone through in death. He wondered whether the Dark Lord killed him openly or if Regulus died in some other way. Severus was hungry for information, but he dared not ask, knowing that the slightest question would betray his own doubts and fears.

Soon enough, in early March, the Dark Lord came to visit Severus at Blackstone, this time accompanied by Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Walburga Black. Instinctively, Severus resented the intrusion on his comfortable womb of silence and seclusion—for weeks he had mourned the loss of his friend and thought over and over again about exactly what he wanted to think about everything he was doing as a Death Eater. And now, his dangerous reverie had to be set aside for the very man that Severus had come to reconsider, even if this man was his father.

The little entourage found Severus alone in the massive library, where he sat near the window, reading about the Vampire Stone.

“I see you are still an ardent researcher, Severus,” the Dark Lord noted.

Severus set down his book, stood before the Dark Lord and bowed his head suppliantly. “My lord, as always you are most astute in your observations.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Bellatrix muttered under her breath.

“Sit, Severus,” the Dark Lord ordered grandly. He sat down next to Severus, looking deeply into Severus’ eyes. Severus instinctively shut his mind, allowing only thoughts about the Vampire Stone to rise to the surface.

“What brings my lord here this afternoon?” Severus asked silkily.

“It is your time,” the Dark Lord replied. “There is a position open at Hogwarts right now, teaching Divination. You are to apply for it.”

“Divination, sir?” Severus asked.

“Is that a problem?” Bellatrix snapped.

“No!” Severus replied as brightly as he could manage. “I never took Divination at school.”

“You are a quick study, are you not?” the Dark Lord said pointedly. “You will apply for the position.”

“And if I am turned down?” Severus asked.

Bellatrix snorted derisively.

“Doesn’t the Dark Lord’s command mean anything to you, Snape?” Lucius asked with a sneer.

“It does! But my _de facto_ application does not necessarily guarantee an acceptance,” Severus replied. “That is unless you wish me to Imperius Professor Dumbledore, though I have a feeling that might not be so simple.”

“Quite so,” the Dark Lord echoed. “I am pleased to see that you have considered all sides, Severus.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Severus replied with a bow of his head. Bellatrix grunted.

“Teaching Divination is not necessarily the goal for you, Severus,” the Dark Lord said. “Making the application, however, is an opportunity for you to build a proverbial bridge with Professor Dumbledore. I seem to recall that you left Hogwarts on poor terms with the man?”

“True,” Severus admitted.

“And do you still harbour hatred for him?” the Dark Lord asked.

Did he? Severus wasn’t quite so sure about that, however, he also knew that any hesitation could be disastrous for him. Thus, he squashed down any doubt into the very back of his mind, using Occlumency as strongly as he could manage.

“My greatest wish is to throw him off the Astronomy Tower, sir,” he said quickly.

“Don’t be frustrated if you don’t get the post the first time,” the Dark Lord instructed. “The old man is cagey and somewhat paranoid when it comes to our kind. Use the interview to ingratiate yourself to him, to make him think you are on his side. Tell whatever lie you have to in order to make him think you’re on his side now. Can you do that, Severus?”

“Is that your wish?” he asked.

“It is my command.”

“Then it is done.”

* * * * *

What a strange time to have a job opening at a school, Severus thought as he prepared for his upcoming interview. He spent the better part of the following week researching Divination and thinking about exactly what to say to the Professor. After all, as the Dark Lord had pointed out, he did not leave on good terms with Dumbledore, and Severus cringed to think of how badly this interview might go. After all, Dumbledore tended to bring out the very worst in Severus, much to the frustration of the younger wizard.

Why couldn’t he behave normally around Dumbledore? Why did he always get so indignant and angry around him? Severus didn’t have an answer to that question.

What he did know was that the Dark Lord fully expected Severus to comply with this mission, despite Severus’ own great reluctance to fulfill it. Hogwarts was the very last place he wanted to find himself, and it was certainly the very last place he wished to be employed. True, he would be privy to important information on Dumbledore, but it also meant that he would have to teach a subject—many of the students weren’t too much younger than Severus, and Severus knew that most of them would be resistant to his presence in the classroom.

This couldn’t be real.

Severus Snape in a classroom? Was the Dark Lord serious? Severus felt a rush of anger just then, adding to the fury he felt over Regulus’ fate not so long ago. As much as he grieved for his lost brother, he buried those feeling deep down, adding it to the growing litany of grievances he held against the Dark Lord…against his father.

Seeing Dumbledore again wasn’t going to be so easy. Severus knew all too well that Dumbledore would be very reluctant to simply throw open his doors and welcome him with open arms. This would take some planning—surely other people would apply, people well versed in Divination and with no history of antipathy with the old man. He wished Regulus were around to give him some help on writing the letter of intent. That thought made Severus feel a pang of side-splitting agony—after all, Regulus would have been absolutely no help in such a situation, but at least Severus would have been entertained.

No. He was on his own in this.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
In the many months that have passed since I left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I have had the opportunity to look back on my time there. As time as passed, I have come to appreciate and indeed, to cherish the education I received from you and your esteemed colleagues._

_I write this letter in hopes that one day I will be able to join the Hogwarts staff, particularly in the post of Divination teacher. It is my desire to meet with you and to discuss the possibility of taking that post. Many things have transpired since I last saw you, and I am eager to make a positive change in the direction my life has taken. Joining your staff would set me in that direction, and I believe that with your wise guidance, I can be of service to the wizarding world in a good way._

_I hope this letter finds you well, and I look forward to your response._

_Sincerely,  
Severus Snape_

Within a week, somewhat to Severus’ shock, he received a reply to his letter—a resounding “yes!”

“Stupid fool,” Severus muttered as he crumpled up Dumbledore’s note in his hand.

What puzzled Severus was the place that Dumbledore wanted to meet—at the Hogshead Inn in Hogsmeade rather than at the school. He couldn’t fathom why, but then again, Severus was relieved that Dumbledore wanted to meet him at all. Then again, that caused Severus to wonder why Dumbledore wanted to meet him. Did he really fall for the rubbish in that letter? Could he possibly be that much of a sucker? Severus supposed it was possible. After all, he always seemed to fall for a sob story, so why not now? Dumbledore knew the whole of Severus’ background, the tragedy of what had happened to Eileen, the abuse and shame he’d suffered so often and so brutally at Hogwarts.

But deep in his heart, Severus wanted him to be a sucker—for his own salvation.

* * * * *

It had rained nonstop for days and days, from the end of March through the start of April. The weather showed no signs of improving any time soon, as if it were somehow telling Severus to turn around and go back to Blackstone, or even back to Spinner’s End. Anywhere but Hogsmeade.

But the Dark Lord’s word was law, and Severus knew better than to disobey, regardless of Regulus’ warnings or his own misgivings about the whole enterprise. Severus knew he was in no position to retaliate or rebel—unlike Regulus, he didn’t have the luxury, and unlike Regulus, he very much wanted to stay alive.

Hogsmeade was positively flooded when Severus arrived late that evening. All the buildings looked dark and strangely foreboding, an oddity for the normally cheery little town. Severus immediately felt unwelcome there, like an intruder on some quiet, Edenic berg.

The Hogshead Inn was only half empty that night—the proprietor seemed none too happy when the dripping wet Severus Snape walked in, wand in his cold, gloved hand. Undaunted by the proprietor’s heavy scowl, Severus approached the bar.

“Professor Dumbledore is expecting me at half seven,” he said grandly. “Is he here?”

“Yeah, he’s here,” the proprietor replied curtly. “But he’s busy with someone. Some strange lady in beads and huge glasses. Job interview.”

“He’s interviewing her?”

“No, he shagging her! Of course he’s interviewing her.”

Severus nodded, then headed towards the door of the closed room where this interview was taking place. Severus supposed that if he were to listen in on the interview, it might give him a slight edge over this witch—he could anticipate the questions and be ready with answers that would convince Dumbledore to hire him. Severus pressed his ear to the door and listened—but what was this?

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.” The woman’s voice sounded strange, almost as if she were in a trance. Severus listened on, his hands growing cold and clammy. “Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”

What was this? Severus could barely believe what he was hearing! An enemy born to vanquish the Dark Lord? Could it be? But who was this person? Clearly he wasn’t in the world yet, but would soon be, at the close of July. But even then, this enemy wouldn’t be ready to do battle with the Dark Lord any time soon—he would have to grow into adulthood before he was nearly ready to take on someone as formidable as the Dark Lord.

What could this power be, this power that “the Dark Lord knows not”? Severus was certain the Dark Lord knew just about every power there was, so what could this power be? What baffled Severus further was the notion that somehow, the Dark Lord would mark him as his equal. Why would he do that? Why not just kill him outright? Why not get to him before he grew up?

That thought made Severus stumble back. Panting and shaking at the horrible thought, Severus stepped away from the door, though the woman went on—but he didn’t want to hear any more. He sat down at an empty table in a dark corner of the tavern, just staring blankly at nothing in particular, wondering what he should do. Should he tell the Dark Lord what he had just heard, or should he not? Maybe this truly was his time to rebel, just as Regulus had foreseen.

But if he kept this information to himself, how could he possibly conceal it? Though he had been successful at using Occlumency to keep some of his more dissident thoughts and emotions from the Dark Lord, Severus wasn’t so sure he could keep this from him. Was it right to keep it from him? Should Severus tell him what he’d just heard, he felt fairly certain that the Dark Lord would reward him greatly. Perhaps if he told him this information, he could get the Dark Lord’s assurance to let Eileen come out of hiding safely.

Severus sighed, now thinking about the sacrifice Regulus had just made. He knew that if he gave this bit of information to the Dark Lord, then what Regulus had just done at the cost of his own life would be undermined.

“You gonna order something or are you just going to sit there like a git?” the proprietor asked from the bar.

Severus jumped at the sound. “Sorry. Uh, look, sir, I’ve got an appointment with Professor Dumbledore and…”

“I know. You told me.”

Severus took out a bit of parchment and scribbled out a note. “Look, sir, something has just come up, and I won’t be able to keep my appointment tonight.” He handed the note to the proprietor. “Would you please give that note to him, with my apologies, of course.”

“Two galleons.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I ain’t no bloody owl. Two galleons.”

Severus glowered at the man, but he still thrust his hand into his pocket and slammed down two galleons on the grimy bar. “Fine.” 

He stormed out of the tavern, but didn’t disapparate right away. Instead, Severus walked. He walked and walked, all through town, regardless of the pounding rain that soaked him through. He walked out of town, up the long path towards the school, as if he had never left Hogwarts at all. His mind raced with frantic, troubled thoughts, each one threatening to rob him of his sanity. What to do what to do what to do?

When Severus reached the school gates, the rain poured down even harder, the sky now black with a thick blanket of murky clouds. Severus lifted his face upward to the rain—he closed his tired eyes and let the water wash over him in torrents.

If he kept this from him and then the Dark Lord found out about it anyway…death. Violent, painful death at the hands of Bellatrix or Lucius or both. Death for Eileen, too. Severus shuddered. He knew what he had to do.

He disapparated back to Blackstone.


	29. The Dark Lord's Mortal Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I have something to show you!” Lily dug into her handbag to pull out what Severus noticed was a photograph, which she clasped to her chest for a moment. “OK, now what I’m going to show you might make you very upset, but please don’t be. It makes me very happy.”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“If it makes you happy, then it makes me happy,” he replied._
> 
>  
> 
> _Lily laughed. “You’re so full of it, Sev,” she quipped, handing the picture to Severus._
> 
>  
> 
> _Severus wasn’t quite sure why he reacted with shock, but as he stared at the photograph of a grinning Lily and James with their baby, Severus felt his heart sink._
> 
>  
> 
> _“My gods, Lily! A baby?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Lily nodded happily. “Isn’t he beautiful?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Severus looked more intently at the child. “He’s got your eyes.”_

He was ecstatic, jubilant, thirsty for blood.

No sooner had Severus revealed the existence of this new enemy, then the Dark Lord set his entire mind to discovering the identity of this person. He paced anxiously up and down before the roaring hearth, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Severus sat on the settee and wondered what the Dark Lord was thinking.

“Nothing matters now other than to find out the identity of this child,” he said.

“He is not yet in the world, my lord,” Severus replied.

“Yes I know that, Severus!” the Dark Lord snapped impatiently. “I would prefer to exterminate mother and child before the birth, but that is highly unlikely. A woman might be due to deliver on one date yet end up delivering early or late. We will have to wait until the child is born.”

“But if more than one are born on the 31st?” Severus asked.

“It’s a simple process of elimination, Severus. I’m surprised you don’t see it. All that is necessary is, once we know more clearly who has delivered a child on July 30 or 31, to then consider who among those women has defied me three times. Unfortunately, there is quite a list of resisters, however, I am certain that most of those women are not currently pregnant.”

“So how will we discover who the woman is? How will we track her down?”

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. “Never you mind about that, Severus,” he said quickly. “You have more important things to do, especially as you failed to speak to Dumbledore.”

Severus gulped as he felt his throat tighten. “I’m sorry about that, my lord,” he said gravely. “I was so eager to rush to you with this information that I…”

“Yes yes, I see,” the Dark Lord replied dismissively. “You are most fortunate to have told me this information. Had you failed in that…”

“My lord! I would never!”

“Do NOT interrupt me!” the Dark Lord snapped. But then he softened. “As you know, Severus, we recently lost the friendship of Regulus Black.”

Severus nodded meekly. “Yes, sir, I know.”

The Dark Lord cocked his head and widened his red eyes. “And yet you did not tell me this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I confess I did not. But he gave me no details of where he went or why.”

“So the fact that he was drowned by Inferi comes as a shock to you?” the Dark Lord asked pointedly.

Severus could feel his insides melt as he fought to maintain his composure. “Yes, sir, it does.” He avoided the Dark Lord’s searing stare.

“I do not wish to lose another son to the Inferi,” he replied coolly.

Severus looked up, directly into the Dark Lord’s eyes. “Sir, my lord, I would never betray you. You have my full loyalty, to the very end. I swear it.”

“You and Regulus were close friends, were you not? You loved him, correct?”

“I did, sir,” Severus confessed. “But he made his choice, as have I. I have chosen you and the legacy you have planned for me.”

The Dark Mark prickled and burned on his arm.

* * * * *

As July turned into August, the summer rain stopped, now replaced by the oppressive heat and humidity. No longer confined to Blackstone, Severus moved to London, taking a flat not too far from Grimmauld Place, which he visited frequently. It felt strange to walk into that house, knowing that Regulus would never greet him again, never joke with him again, never ask his typical annoying questions that Severus missed so much.

It felt equally strange to look at Mrs. Black again. He wondered at her composure and diffidence, all the time knowing of her son’s tragic fate. Was she just being brave or did she feel that Regulus got what he deserved? And when she greeted him so warmly, with so much affection and kindness, Severus felt the sting of nausea bubble up in him treacherously.

“Walburga,” he said serenely, now hating her profoundly. “You look well.”

“As do you,” she replied. “You will have to forgive my husband’s absence tonight. He has been extremely ill these last few weeks.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Severus said.

“No you’re not,” Bellatrix sneered, joining Mrs. Black in the foyer.

“And are you a psychic, Bella?” Severus asked.

“Bella?” she snorted. “You never called me Bella before, Snape!”

“Is that a crime?” Severus retorted impatiently. “Would you prefer Mrs. Lestrange?”

“Please, Bella, don’t be so catty today,” Mrs. Black said smoothly.

Mrs. Black took Severus by the arm and led him into the parlour, where she served tea and light refreshments of cucumber sandwiches and scones. Severus hoped the food wasn’t poisoned.

“I understand you’ve learned many new forms of magic since you were at Blackstone,” she said, pouring out some cinnamon tea for him.

“To be honest, Mrs. Black, I hardly know myself any more,” Severus replied genteelly as he accepted a scone, helping himself to orange marmalade and clotted cream. “The Dark Lord has been most generous in training my mind and my magic.”

Bellatrix snorted. “So you didn’t tell him of your misbehaviour?”

“Really, Bella, must you be such a little bitch in front of the Dark Lord’s heir?”

Bellatrix snatched a cucumber sandwich off the silver tray and stuffed it into her mouth, staring resolutely out the window in a huff.

Turning back to Severus, Mrs. Black smiled softly. “He told us about you,” she said. “I was thrilled, of course, and I do so look forward to your future employment at Hogwarts. I believe it is a fine plan.”

Severus shrugged, ignoring the audible grunt from Bellatrix. “To be honest, it’s not exactly how I envisioned myself, but I am eager to pursue it nonetheless. After all, it is a crucial part of the Dark Lord’s strategy, and I have committed myself to fulfilling it.”

Bellatrix laughed. “You, with a bunch of snotty-nosed brats? Teaching them magic spells? What fun you’ll have, Sev,” she said acerbically.

Severus rolled his eyes. “We all know that Dumbledore is a pathetic old rube. I expect that I should be able to ingratiate myself to him in no time.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Bellatrix sniped. “So then you’ll be doing his bidding, not the Dark Lord’s.”

“Not at all,” Severus objected. “You really don’t understand the Dark Lord’s way of thinking, do you, Mrs. Lestrange.”

Bellatrix scoffed at that. “Please, Snape! Get over yourself! You may be the Dark Lord’s heir bloody apparent, but don’t you DARE tell me what I don’t understand!”

Mrs. Black shot her a warning glare, but then her eyes brightened. “The Dark Lord told me of your crucial information, about his enemy born into the world on July 31.”

“Yes,” Severus replied. “It was a stroke of luck that I was there to hear this prediction.”

“Well, I’ve got good news!” she crowed. “The Dark Lord has discovered the identity of this child! He has made it clear that both mother and child must be exterminated. Perhaps he’ll give that honour to you, Severus.”

“That would indeed be a great honour,” he said, now wishing he could pour a bit of sherry into his tea. His stomach burned. “However, it could be that the Dark Lord would wish to do this himself.”

Bellatrix laughed. “So you doubt your abilities, or is an issue of priorities?” she asked pointedly.

“This child apparently holds great powers, and as you well know, Mrs. Lestrange, only the Dark Lord can be a match for such a formidable wizard, regardless of age or circumstance.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Black said. “Of course, the sooner he can get it done, the sooner we can all relax.”

“But Walburga,” Severus asked, “who is this child? Did the Dark Lord give you a name?”

“He didn’t, actually. I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.”

Later that afternoon, when Severus was finally able to extricate himself from the probing questions of Bellatrix and the fawning attention of Mrs. Black, he decided to take a short shopping trip to Diagon Alley—Gringott’s first, then Flourish and Blott’s, then to the apothecary and a few other errands.

He did not expect to run into Lily Potter.

It was her voice that caught his attention first. In the throng of shoppers and children buying school supplies for Hogwarts, he heard that very familiar voice calling his name, like a song.

“Sev! Hey, Sev!” She jumped up and down, waving to him enthusiastically.

Severus hadn’t seen Lily since she first announced her engagement to Potter, and when he first caught sight of her standing there, he couldn’t help feeling that old ardour for her. It shamed him more than he was willing to admit, that after so long and so many arguments he still hadn’t gotten over Lily. Severus started to wonder whether he ever would. Watching her move towards him, he thought she glittered and glowed in the afternoon sun.

But she didn’t give him an affectionate hug or even a handshake. Instead, Lily stared into his dark eyes for a moment, as if she were sizing him up.

“You look wonderful,” Severus said eagerly. “I mean wow, look at you!”

“How are you?” she asked carefully. “I heard that Regulus is missing.”

Severus nodded, disappointed that she wanted to talk about something so painful to him. “I suppose Sirius told you.”

“Actually, Albus did. He’s very upset about it.”

“I suppose he’ll figure out what happened to him.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“I want to know a lot of things.” He paused. “So how’s married life? I expect you and Potter are disgustingly happy together.”

She smiled wryly. “Nice way to change the subject, Sev, but you are right. In fact, I have something to show you!” She dug into her handbag to pull out what Severus noticed was a photograph, which she clasped to her chest for a moment. “OK, now what I’m going to show you might make you very upset, but please don’t be. It makes me very happy.”

“If it makes you happy, then it makes me happy,” he replied.

Lily laughed. “You’re so full of it, Sev,” she quipped, handing the picture to Severus.

Severus wasn’t quite sure why he reacted with shock, but as he stared at the photograph of a grinning Lily and James with their baby, Severus felt his heart sink.

“My gods, Lily! A baby?”

Lily nodded happily. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

Severus looked more intently at the child. “He’s got your eyes.”

“I know. He’ll look like James, but not his eyes. His name is Harry.”

“Harry Potter,” Severus whispered. “Incredible.”

Lily took back the picture and gazed at it affectionately. “He’s very sweet, very happy.”

“Congratulations, Lily,” Severus said, barely able to concentrate any more. “So when did all this happen?”

“July 31, and let me tell you, it was practically at the very end of July 31. 11:59 to be precise!”

But Severus didn’t hear her full sentence, nor her laugh at the end of her tale. All that stood out in his mind was the date: July 31. He froze, now chalk white, unable to see straight or think, now paralysed by horror and terror and guilt.

“Sev?” Lily touched his shoulder, then his face. “Sev, are you alright?”

“No, I…I’m sorry, Lily,” Severus murmured. “I…”

“You look ill,” she said. “Shall we go sit somewhere? We could go to Fortescue’s, get you something cold.”

But Severus couldn’t move. “I have to go,” he finally blurted out. “You’re right, I’m not feeling well.”

“Hey, why not come home with me,” she suggested. “I can brew something for you and you can see the baby.”

“I couldn’t possibly…No, I have to go,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Lily.”

With that, he stumbled off, leaving a confused and worried Lily behind. Severus wandered aimlessly back down Diagon Alley, occasionally knocking into careless shoppers, saying nothing, barely able to suppress the storm of grief that tore through him. Finally, unable to take it any more, he disapparated to an abandoned stretch of beach on the remote coast of Cornwall, where he lay down on the craggy rocks and wept wildly, abandoning all hope, all thought of appearances, all politics or stated loyalties.

* * * * *

Severus lay there what felt like an eternity until he had no more tears, nor more energy, no more of anything inside him. He felt shredded from within, as if his soul had been ripped apart. What could he do? Severus was certain the Dark Lord would discover the identity of this new enemy, place his mark upon poor Harry Potter, but then what? An impossible struggle rose within his mind and heart. Should the Dark Lord only vanquish the child, then Lily would be devastated, but if the Dark Lord vanquished both mother and child…well, that just couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow for that to happen.

But what if both could be saved? Then what? And how?

Severus sat up.

Only one person could accomplish this, which filled Severus with dread. Naturally, he knew that Dumbledore would do all he could to help Lily and Harry—after all, she was his favourite, and she was married to his other favourite. That was the easy part. The hard part was getting to Dumbledore, talking to him and somehow gaining his trust.

But that wasn’t his only concern. Doing this, working to save Harry and Lily would be direct betrayal, worse even than what Regulus had done. Severus began to wonder about himself in that moment. He was the Dark Lord’s son, his legacy. The critical part of the Dark Lord’s plan rested on Severus’ ability to manipulate Dumbledore, yet this wasn’t how he wanted to do it. Lily meant far too much to him to just use her plight as a way in for himself. The danger was far too great for everyone, himself included.

He sighed. Steeling himself, Severus apparated back to his flat in London, where he sat listlessly before the unlit hearth for a very long time. At his side rested a quill, ink and parchment, ready and waiting for him to write.

Downing a glass of brandy, Severus set the glass down carefully, then took up the quill to compose his message.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
I apologise for my failure to meet with you months ago, and I regret any inconvenience that might have caused you. A sudden situation came up to which I had to attend, and I unfortunately had no time to speak to you personally._

_Today, a new situation arose, unrelated to Hogwarts, but just as important, perhaps even more so. I cannot give you the particulars of this situation, however, I must see you immediately, as soon as tomorrow night if you can. This is in relation to the DL, so as you must construe, this is extremely urgent._

_Again, I apologise for the sudden nature of this request, but it is a matter which cannot wait._

_Sincerely,  
Severus Snape_

Severus’ hands shook as he set down the quill, but he poured out another tall glass of brandy for himself, downing it in a single, burning gulp, sinking into the pain it caused, trying to disappear into that pain in exchange for what he already felt.

But it was no good. He suddenly felt horribly stupid, unforgivably ignorant. She had warned him so often, cajoled him for his reckless choice of friends and cohorts, and now, it was all being shoved cruelly in his face, as if fate had tied him down and forced him to watch the woman he loved so dearly suffer so bitterly. Severus drank another glass, and then another before he had the courage to send his note to Hogwarts.

As the snowy owl flew off, disappearing into the night sky, Severus shuddered, and he wondered whether he would live another day.

The very next morning, to his amazement and relief, the owl had returned, bearing a note tied with red string. Inside, the note read:

_Severus,_   
_Meet me at the Tor, on the hillside. Eleven ‘o clock sharp. Do not be late._

_AD_


	30. Lying to the Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Lily was…my first friend. For a long time she was my only friend. She saw me through some pretty awful things when my father…when Tobias was alive. Even now, even though we’ve chosen very different paths, we still care about each other. I can’t just let that go, no matter how deep I go into the organisation. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let her get killed like that.”_
> 
> _“So the fact that she’s a mudblood no longer matters?” Dumbledore asked pointedly._
> 
> _Severus gasped—he had never heard Dumbledore use that word before. “It never did!” he shot back._
> 
> _“And yet you regularly kill them. You kill muggles, half-bloods, muggle-borns, don’t you?”_
> 
> _“I have to! I don’t have a choice!”_
> 
> _“You always have a choice, Severus.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Some of the dialogue is lifted from DH. No plagiarism is intended, and I have worked to use as little as possible. I’m also altering a little from canon for the sake of my own story and my own timeline.**

The wind howled that night, as if a great monster had been unleashed on the Tor. Severus had visited the Tor only once in his life, with his mother. Eileen insisted that every witch and wizard should go there at least once to feel the magical energy that emanated from that place. Though it was a popular tourist site for muggles, many witches and wizards flocked there, too, for renewal and focus.

Severus wished he could be there for that purpose, too, and lamented that he wasn’t. How did it all come to this? He wondered how in a matter of just a few hours, his entire life had unraveled so completely. The very last thing he ever wanted was to mix up someone like Lily Potter in all this business. She was completely innocent, a refreshing source of good in the world, yet now, just by virtue of having a child on the wrong date, she was in danger of being destroyed. And for what?

That was the question Severus didn’t want to answer. It was a question he didn’t even want to ask, knowing all too well what that answer would be. He had felt it from that first night of muggle-baiting all those years ago, but now that he was a full-fledged Death Eater, a murderer, a torturer, a thief and of course, the son of a rapist, Severus fought against those agonising questions.

And suddenly, Dumbledore was there in a wild flurry of white light, almost as if the ground had been struck with lightening, emerging from it indignant and proud, clearly furious at having to see him again. Severus steeled himself and approached, barely able to mask his panic and grief. At first, he was sure Dumbledore wanted to kill him, and he found himself stupidly begging for his life. But quickly, Dumbledore made it clear that he had no intentions of killing anyone…for now anyway.

“Well, Severus, what message does Lord Voldemort have for me?” he asked impatiently.

Severus cringed at the sound of the Dark Lord’s name. “No message,” he replied, doing all he could to appear confident and cold, though he couldn’t help but feel unnerved by Dumbledore’s intent stare. “I’m here on my own account.”

“Yes?”

Severus hesitated. “I…have a warning for you…a request…from myself, not from him. You must hear me, sir, please!”

Dumbledore folded his arms, first flicking his wand so that the sound of the wailing wind no longer drowned them out. “Well? Speak then, if this is such an emergency.”

“You hid my mother years ago to protect her from the Dark Lord,” Severus began haltingly.

“She asks about you every time I see her. I have not told her that you are a Death Eater, nor of how many innocent people you have murdered. What is the body count at this point, Severus?”

“Please, sir! You must hear me!”

“Go on, then. What do you want?”

“There’s a plot on to kill…to kill Lily Evans and her son. That prophecy you heard from that woman…”

“Ah yes, Sybil. So you heard it, too? No doubt eavesdropping on a private conversation.”

Severus blushed. “I did a terrible thing! I…I related all of which I heard to the Dark Lord! Honestly, sir, I had no idea it was about Lily! If I had, I never would have said a thing to him!”

Dumbledore looked appalled. “So if it were another mother and child, if it were Alice Longbottom and her son, Neville, that would have been alright?”

“Well…” Severus started weakly. He felt about two feet tall just then.

“You disgust me!” Dumbledore spat.

“Sir, I…”

“What do you want, Severus?”

“Keep her out of this, sir. Hide her, hide them both!”

“And what about James? Are you suggesting he be obliterated by your lord and master? I know you’re a vindictive bastard, but I didn’t think you actually wished to see James Potter die. If I recall, he saved your life at one time.”

“Hide him, too, then! Hide them all, please, for pity’s sake!” Severus cried, exasperated.

“For you? For an imperious, snobbish, ungrateful brute such as yourself?”

“Sir, please, I…I’ll do anything!”

Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow. “Anything, Severus?”

Severus sighed dramatically, knowing full well what this meant for him. “Yes. Anything. I swear it.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Then it is done. But what to do with you, Severus Snape? What shall I do with you?”

* * * * *

Dumbledore’s office looked much the same as it had before—he had a couple of new, typically strange silver instruments, but otherwise, it was as if Severus had never left. As in the old days, Severus sat before Dumbledore, before the massive oak desk that dominated the grand office. Dumbledore served him brandy.

“Before I decide what to do with you, Severus,” Dumbledore began, “you will tell me every single detail of Lord Voldemort’s organisation, from top to bottom.”

Severus winced at the sound of the Dark Lord’s name. “Wait just a minute, sir! Are you just trying to exploit me?”

“You agreed to do anything.”

“But you would save them anyway!” Severus shot back.

“Then why come to me at all?” Dumbledore retorted.

“Because you needed to know! Because only you can help! I didn’t come here to be used by you!”

“Then why agree to do anything for me?”

“Because…” But Severus halted. “For love, sir,” he confessed.

“Love, Severus? For another man’s wife? How typically inappropriate of you.”

“For an old friend. Is that wrong?”

Dumbledore chuckled, pouring him more brandy. “No. In fact, it’s quite touching. I am impressed that you harbour such soft sentiments for her.”

Severus reddened. “You think me incapable?”

“I didn’t say that, Severus. You are not someone who is especially open with his feelings. I always thought you walked alone.”

“Not by choice,” Severus admitted.

Dumbledore leaned forward. “What are the Dark Lord’s plans?”

“Surely you can figure that out, sir. You’re a clever man.” He sighed. “Do I really disgust you?”

Dumbledore took a long sip of his brandy. “Perhaps I over spoke. I see that you are deeply troubled. Could it be that Severus Snape has a conscience?”

“Lily was…my first friend. For a long time she was my only friend. She saw me through some pretty awful things when my father…when Tobias was alive. Even now, even though we’ve chosen very different paths, we still care about each other. I can’t just let that go, no matter how deep I go into the organisation. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let her get killed like that.”

“So the fact that she’s a mudblood no longer matters?” Dumbledore asked pointedly.

Severus gasped—he had never heard Dumbledore use that word before. “It never did!” he shot back.

“And yet you regularly kill them. You kill muggles, half-bloods, muggle-borns, don’t you?”

“I have to! I don’t have a choice!”

“You always have a choice, Severus.”

“I made my choice, sir, when I received the Dark Mark! I knew what would happen. I knew I’d have to kill, I mean, this is war! That’s what Regulus never really got, but I did!”

“What did happen to Regulus?” Dumbledore asked.

Severus took a drink from his brandy glass and shut his eyes. “Nothing anyone needs to know. It has nothing to with this prophecy.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Why are you so interested in Regulus?”

“Let’s just say I’m interested in the bigger picture,” Dumbledore replied. “As you say, this is a war, and a good general knows the entire situation, not simply pieces. No one just disappears for no good reason, especially someone as valuable as Regulus Black.”

Severus couldn’t reply, fearing he might speak too well of what Regulus had done. If he spoke well of Regulus he might give Dumbledore the impression he wanted to emulate Regulus, and if that happened…

“I’m scared, Professor,” Severus confessed. His voice trembled slightly. “I know that what I’ve done tonight will result in my death and…I’m not like Regulus. I’m not ready to face death.”

“And yet you have brought death to so many,” Dumbledore mused.

Severus frowned. “You’ve killed, too.”

“True, though for different reasons.”

Severus frowned. “Right, so there’s good killing and bad killing? That sounds very dodgy to me, sir.”

“So you kill for the right reasons?”

“For the sake of my cause? Yes.”

Dumbledore smirked. “And what is that cause, Severus, that is so valuable to you?”

What was it? Severus wondered. “To purify our world,” he replied stiffly.

“And yet you defend a muggle-born.”

“That’s different!”

“Is it? You follow a half-blood, Severus. Did you know that?”

“That’s ridiculous! The Dark Lord is a pureblood!”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “And Tom Riddle is a half blood. So you mean he didn’t tell you that part? That his witch mother seduced his muggle father? You had no idea?”

Severus hardly knew what to say to that. “No, sir,” he finally said quietly. “What do you want of me?”

“We shall discuss that over time, but for now, I want you to use your influence as his son to change his mind about Lily.”

“But…”

“I will hide them, to be sure, Severus. All the same, you need to exert yourself as his son—he will applaud your daring. But play it carefully, too. You know Occlumency, correct?”

“Yeah, well enough.”

“Good. Use it. You will have constant need of it from now on. The slightest hint of betrayal…”

“I know sir, I know,” Severus replied quickly. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll do what I can.”

But how?

* * * * *

Severus sensed trouble.

It had been four days since his disappearance from London, during which time Severus missed two important meetings—one with Abraxas Malfoy and the other with Igor Karkaroff and Ludovic Bagman. Both meetings were in aid of developing a massive new strategy to weaken and crumble the London sewage system. The hope was to wipe out at least ten thousand muggles in the space of three days, but with Severus inexplicably absent, the plans were moved back.

The Dark Lord responded with fury, which made Bellatrix Lestrange overjoyed. All Death Eaters had been called to Blackstone for a special summit meeting, and at the top of the agenda was the extended absence of Severus Snape. He now stood before the Dark Lord, barefoot and shaking with dread, using Occlumency more intensely than ever before. The Dark Lord sat at the front of the long ballroom, one leg casually draped over a luxurious, massive oak throne. He spun his wand around on his thumb.

“So, Severus, where have you been these days?” he asked.

“I…”

“You were seen at the Tor,” the Dark Lord said dangerously. “You were seen walking through the town nearby. Do you deny this?”

“No, sir, I don’t deny it,” Severus admitted. “I was there for personal reasons.”

Bellatrix, who stood by the Dark Lord’s right shoulder, snorted audibly. “Personal reasons? Please, Sev, get real.”

“Surely, Bella, you know about the Tor?” Severus replied imperiously. He fought hard to keep his confidence.

“I know about the bloody Tor!” she snapped back.

“Then it should come as no surprise to you that I might spend time there, especially as it is the Dark Lord’s order for me to develop my magic so that I can do his bidding!”

She glared at him. “That presumes you’re alone!”

Severus felt his stomach flip uncomfortably. “What makes you say I wasn’t? Did you see me talking with someone else? Perhaps you saw me chatting up a shop girl or speaking to a tourist?”

“You know what I mean,” she grumbled.

“No, Bella, I really don’t,” Severus replied hotly.

“Why were you talking to Albus Dumbledore?” she asked. Angry murmuring erupted all around as the Dark Lord now glared at Severus.

“Communing with the enemy are we?” he asked smoothly. “Endeavouring to save the beautiful Lily Evans from an untimely death?”

Severus’ mind raced for a moment, but then he straightened his shoulders. “It was an accident, my lord. I hadn’t expected to see him there, and I thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of the situation. I gave him an excuse for why I had missed our interview back in April, and then I asked him whether we could reschedule.”

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at Severus. “Is this the truth, Severus?”

Severus looked him in the eye. “I swear it on my life, sir.”

“And what did he say?”

“The fool was delighted, actually. He’s expecting me in a week, actually.”

“For what position?” the Dark Lord asked eagerly.

“I don’t know yet, my lord. I feel confident, however, that the training you gave me these last several months will equip me to take any post.”

The Dark Lord scowled. “But not Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus. Not just yet.”

“What if that is the only position open, sir?”

“The see to it that another of the staff can no longer remain in their post,” he replied darkly.

Severus glanced back at a chastened Bellatrix, arms proudly folded across her chest, looking down at tips of her shoes.

“I hope you are satisfied, Mrs. Lestrange,” Severus sneered.

The Dark Lord chuckled. “Well, then, Severus, I suppose we are to understand your tardiness,” he said.

* * * * *

That night, Severus retired back to his flat in London, longing for a hot bath and a good night’s rest. When he arrived home, however, he received the unwelcome sight of Bellatrix Lestrange, looking her formerly seductive self, lounging languidly on the sofa, her naked frame covered only by a thin, white blanket.

“What is this?” Severus asked, astonished, worried.

“What do you think?” She stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor.

Severus stirred slightly, but eyed her skeptically. “Am I to understand that you no longer hate me?”

Bellatrix threw him a kittenish glance. “Hate you? I never hated you, Sev.”

“So your desire to AK me was out of some great love?”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. Not right away anyway.”

“Right. You’d flay me first.”

Bellatrix laughed again. “Slowly. Painfully,” she said seductively, running her hands up his arms and shoulders. “But right now, I have other plans for you.” She kissed his throat, tracing the line of his jaw with the tip of her tongue. Soon, they dissolved into each other, kissing and grasping and scratching and making wild love, as if they had never had a disagreement in their lives.

But later, as Bellatrix slumbered softly in his aching arms, Severus pondered deeply what had just happened. Surely Bellatrix suspected some level of disloyalty—she had seen his hesitation months ago when he refused to torture the redheaded girl and made no secret of her growing disdain for him. So why come to him now, eager to make love and set everything else aside? Did she really believe his story tonight? Was it possible?

Severus snuggled down next to her, running his warm hand over her icy skin, leaning his head against hers. He hoped she did believe it. She had to.


	31. The Potions Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He had never before appreciated the role of a teacher before he became one, but after one week of classes, Severus was ready to throw himself at the mercy of the Dark Lord and even brave the Cruciatus curse if it meant he didn’t have to play wet-nurse to a pack of squalling brats. As much as he had disliked most of his peers as a Hogwarts student, he now detested them profoundly. Complaints, excuses, inattention, snotty opinions, cruel jokes, bullying—it was enough to make Severus want to Imperius them all and force them to comply._
> 
> _Of course, that was ridiculous._

Back to Dumbledore, back to the office. No more interviews in public houses.

“For your protection, I wanted to speak to you here,” Dumbledore said to Severus. 

They sat again at Dumbledore’s huge desk in the now sunlit office, sharing a modest breakfast and going over details of this dangerous new arrangement.

“So they believed your story?” he asked.

“I wasn’t sure they would, but so far, it seems that I convinced them that our meeting really was accidental.”

“How did it feel to lie to the Dark Lord?” Dumbledore asked. He poured more coffee for both of them.

“It felt awful,” Severus replied.

“But you’ve lied to him before.”

Severus blushed. “I…I’ve kept things from him. I’ve used Occlumency against him.”

“Often?”

Severus nodded. He lost his appetite. “But I use Occlumency against most people.” He sighed. “Things are only going to get worse,” he said. “My friends from school, Avery, Rosier and Mulciber are going to be initiated on Halloween. There’ll be more after them, more people just like them. It’s just…I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. All this lying and secrecy is so…it’s just hard to keep up.”

“So what do you want? Do you want to walk away from the Dark Lord?”

Severus laughed bitterly at that. “You can’t just walk away, sir! You know that! And…” He stopped.

“And?”

Severus didn’t reply for a moment, and as a surge of grief and shame tore through him, he fought back a sob. “Look, I’m not a bad person! I…all I ever wanted was…respect, to be able to feel like I’m not just some pathetic slug.”

“And you get that from the Death Eaters? You get that from being a killer?” Dumbledore asked sharply.

“I can’t explain it to you sir,” Severus retorted. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve been admired and loved all your life! You’ve never had to go through constant rejection! You don’t have this face or this fucking hair!”

“Severus…”

“Nobody else has ever wanted me! Nobody else ever gave me an ounce of respect, including you, Professor. Even my own mother threw me out! This is the only place where I’m appreciated for what I am, for what I do!” His body trembled as he spoke.

Dumbledore chuckled. “For being a violent dark wizard?”

“No! For being resourceful, quick to action and loyal.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at that. “Loyal?”

“Until recently, yes.”

“Until recently?”

“I…”

Dumbledore reached across the desk and put a fatherly hand on Severus’. “Severus, you are at a critical moment in your young life. I know you’ve been terribly treated by Tobias and by some of our students, and I feel just awful that I’ve been so unresponsive to your pain. But Severus, you’re 20 years old now. All that pain is in the past—this is the time for you to start over. You don’t have to live your life as a killer forever!”

Severus lowered his burning eyes. “The Dark Lord doesn’t want me to be a killer forever. As a matter of fact, he wants me here, at Hogwarts. He wants me to ingratiate myself to you and eventually to usurp your power.”

“And is that what you want?” Dumbledore asked stiffly.

Severus laughed. “You really think I want to spend my life here? The happiest day of my life was the day I left here, so the prospect of being back isn’t exactly my idea of fulfillment!”

“But?”

“It’s a way out, I suppose.” Severus lowered his voice. “It’s protection.”

“It’s perfect,” Dumbledore said contentedly. “Severus, you are in a unique position in the world. You have clearly rethought your loyalties and yet, without letting Lord Voldemort suspect you in the least. That is brilliant. Severus, how would you like to do something extremely heroic, something that will make you loved and appreciated by some very good and moral people?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You promised me that you would do anything if I would keep Lily and Harry safe.”

“Yes?” Severus replied, filled with dread at what the old man might suggest.

“You are in a unique position to give us critical information about Voldemort’s organisation while at the same time, giving him the impression that you are informing him about me.”

“You mean be a spy?” Severus asked, horrified. “No, Professor, I won’t do that! I won’t!”

“Then you were just manipulating me when you made your promise!”

“No! I meant it! But you’re asking me to do something that will undoubtedly get me killed!”

“You’ve already done that, Severus. When you came to warn me about Lily and Harry, you sealed your fate. You know that, don’t you?”

Severus found he couldn’t argue with that. As much as he hated being backed against a wall, especially by Albus Dumbledore, he knew that he was out of options. But what nagged at his mind the rest of the day was that, in some faint way, he wanted to do this. Though every instinct he had developed over the last ten years rioted against this new desire, Severus found he couldn’t completely object to what Dumbledore wanted of him.

Naturally, nothing had changed about how he felt about the old man. It would take a lot more than a few platitudes to take away all the damage and betrayal of the past, and Severus decided to hold onto his resentment for a while longer. He somehow needed its sureness and its strength, especially now that Severus was entering into the dark and frightening unknown.

* * * * *

“He has agreed to hire me, my lord,” Severus reported later that night at the Black mansion. He knelt before the Dark Lord, head bowed but eyes raised to look directly into the Dark Lord’s stern face.

“Excellent!” the Dark Lord hissed. “What post?”

“Potions, sir. But in January, not now. Dumbledore tells me that Professor Slughorn is planning to retire after the first term.”

The Dark Lord pondered the news for a moment, his face going from slightly irritated to extremely pleased the more he thought about it. “This is very good, Severus,” he finally said. “This arrangement gives you time to develop your strategy, and it also will give me time to work with you on the specifics of comportment and mind control. I am extremely pleased with you.”

Severus glowed inside. “Thank you so much, my lord,” he said meekly. “Words cannot express my feelings at this moment.”

Bellatrix licked her lips lusciously and batted her eyes at him. Next to her, Rodolphus clenched his fists and glowered.

Over time, with careful attention from the Dark Lord, as well as from Mrs. Black, Narcissa Malfoy and Decius Avery, Cassius’ scary father. He was much older when he married, or so Cassius had always told Severus—Decius spent many hard years killing, maiming, torturing and raping countless muggles and mudbloods, and it was only when the Dark Lord gave him an order to settle down and create a legacy that Decius decided to marry and impregnate his pureblooded, much younger wife. As a result, Cassius had grown up without much contact with his busy father, who in Cassius’ young eyes had thus grown into an iconic figure.

Severus couldn’t understand his old friend in the least.

What he did understand was that he now had be become a new sort of wizard, one who could play both sides of the fence seamlessly, like an astute thespian thoroughly absorbed in his role. Yet Severus detested such pretense. While he liked the notion of being inscrutable, he also admired the ability to be open about oneself. As jealously as he protected his privacy, Severus never felt like he was lying about himself—until now. And this wasn’t any old lie. By lying to the Dark Lord, he had set himself up for certain, excruciating death.

Bellatrix became extremely useful to him in these dicey days. She had seemingly, totally forgiven whatever transgression she thought he had committed, and instead resumed her intense sexual attentions, more untamed and passionate than ever before. Their frequent encounters left Severus tingling with pleasure and aching with pain. They tore at each other, devoured each other cruelly, and in the end could only dissolve into giddy laughter as they lay side by side in various areas of Severus’ flat—the kitchen floor, the rug in front of the hearth, the huge bed, the bathtub.

He would miss that, he was sure. Severus’ only memories of female staff were of Minerva McGonagall, Aurora Sinistra and Professor Sprout—none of these women appealed to him in the least. It shouldn’t have bothered him that he was giving up an extremely active sex life in order to keep a promise to a man he still hated, but it did. Granted, the sex was with a psychotic, sadistic Death Eater, but it was still female attention. At the same time, Severus knew that giving her up was for the best, and for many good reasons.

And so, on January 1, 1981, with bags in hand and a stomach full of nerves, the young Professor Severus Snape boarded the Hogwarts Express, along with his students, ready to start this new, lethal mission.

Many students recognised him immediately as he made his way down the corridor of the train towards the Professors’ compartment. Many of the older students gave him looks of recognition—some friendly, some shocked, a few horrified—Severus imperiously acknowledged the Slytherin students and a handful of Ravenclaws. He also took notice of Jazmine Goyle, now a stunning Sixth Year. He hadn’t remembered her looking quite so lovely before.

“Sev! What’s up, mate? You repeating your NEWT’s?” shouted a Ravenclaw boy. Laughter.

Severus stopped in his tracks, quickly weighing how to respond. He turned to face the boy, a short, apple-cheeked Ravenclaw Fifth Year with too much red hair. “No, Martinson. I’m here to make sure you fail your OWL’s. See you in class, twit.”

With that, he swept away, letting his elegant new robes flow out behind him gracefully. Once safely stowed in the Professors’ compartment, Severus shut the door behind him, opened up his new copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ , by Libatius Borage, and began to read. Before long, however, he tired of Borage’s short-sighted directions and almost idiotic methodology—he had long ago dismissed Borage as well-intended fool, but on the other hand, he hedged at teaching the students his own methods, as superior as he thought they were.

Severus felt the lurch of the train as it started out of the King’s Cross station, and just as quickly, he was joined by Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. Severus remembered her only a little, as he had dropped the subject by the time she started up at Hogwarts. All the same, she looked virtually unchanged—Severus seemed to remember that she had been involved with a witch from Hogsmeade, but he never knew many of the details.

“I heard you were starting up here,” she said brightly, setting down her black briefcase and sitting opposite Severus. “Sluggy finally had enough, I guess. But his students are good, so you should transition pretty well.”

Severus nodded imperiously, but hesitated to speak. What was he to the professors? Was he an overgrown student? Was it okay to address them on familiar terms?

“Well that’s something, then,” he finally replied. Was that a bad answer? Severus chewed on the side of his tongue for a moment. “Are there any changes at Hogwarts since I left?”

“Not many. Yet another Defense teacher, as always. It’s weird how we can never hold onto anyone for that post.”

“Curious.” Severus murmured. He salivated. That was one post he could stand, if only he had the chance. Of course, that depended on the staff and now, on the judgement of Dumbledore. It felt so strange.

* * * * *

He had never before appreciated the role of a teacher before he became one, but after one week of classes, Severus was ready to throw himself at the mercy of the Dark Lord and even brave the Cruciatus curse if it meant he didn’t have to play wet-nurse to a pack of squalling brats. As much as he had disliked most of his peers as a Hogwarts student, he now detested them profoundly. Complaints, excuses, inattention, snotty opinions, cruel jokes, bullying—it was enough to make Severus want to Imperius them all and force them to comply.

Of course, that was ridiculous.

His first month as Potions Master, Severus met daily with Professor Dumbledore to strategise exactly how he would behave and how he would interact with the Dark Lord—Severus was instructed by the Dark Lord to meet with him once a month for updates and crucial information. Unfortunately, there were still plenty of students at school whose parents were either Death Eaters or in some other way connected to the organisation. Thus, he would have to take on the persona of someone who was entirely emotionally detached from anyone, including Dumbledore. But he was also instructed by Dumbledore to give extra attention to the Slytherin students, just to make everyone believe that his loyalties hadn’t changed.

That was the easy part.

The hard part was believing it. Still, Severus was determined to make it work. Lily’s safety depended on it, to some degree. He felt as though if he failed at this new mission and she got herself killed, he would never be able to forgive himself. If only he hadn’t been so fast to blab everything to the Dark Lord! If only he had known that this whole thing was about Lily and her son! Severus rebuked himself harshly—he was a bad friend, a bad person, an utter failure at life.

She had to live. She had to survive. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

One of the trickiest parts of his new role as professor and spy was the presence of so many siblings and children of Death Eaters, most notably Jazmine Goyle. The very first week of classes, she encountered him in the corridor outside the Prefects’ bathroom where she threw her arms around him affectionately.

“I’m so excited you’re here!” she squeed. “And as our professor! That is just so cool!”

Severus quickly removed her arms from his person and stepped back. “That’s right, Jaz, I’m your professor now, not your old friend, not anything else!”

But his rebuke didn’t deter her. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Daddy said my big brother, Greg, is going to be initiated on Halloween! So are Damien and a couple of others we know.”

“And?”

“Are you going?”

“Jaz, we can’t have this conversation here!” Severus snapped. Gripping her by the arm, he jerked her forward and put his lips to her ear. “The Dark Lord favours discretion, little girl! You will not compromise my position here or anywhere else by talking of things you know nothing about!” With that, he released her and stormed off, heading straight for Dumbledore’s office, where he found the Headmaster entrenched in a pile of paperwork.

Dumbledore looked up, a bit taken aback by Severus’ sudden intrusion.

“What is this, Severus?”

“We’ve got a problem, sir. A big one.” He set down his own pile of books and parchments and sat opposite Dumbledore, explaining his encounter with Jaz.

“This is a problem,” Dumbledore agreed. “How many here are associated by family to the Death Eaters?”

“I have no idea. I know of Jaz, and also of Avery’s little brother, a younger Carrow cousin who I think is a Second Year, and probably about ten others whose siblings, cousins or parents are associates…that is, Death Eaters. Sir, if they think I’m here to support your side of the war, then we’re all in deep trouble.”

“But if they assume you’re on their side, then you’re safe. The mistake would be for you to show any sympathy or openness to anyone who’s not in Slytherin or in Ravenclaw.”

“So no niceties to Gryffindors?” Severus asked with a smirk.

Dumbledore chuckled. “That shouldn’t be too hard for you, right?”

“True,” Severus admitted.

But Dumbledore’s pale eyes grew stern. “This is actually quite serious, Severus. This will undoubtedly be a hardship on you because you must carry on a persona at all times, unless you are alone with me or with Minerva.”

Severus’ spine stiffened. “I see.”

“I wish I could tell you how long you will have to maintain this, Severus, but I can’t, and not because I’m withholding information from you. In fact, I see now that I made a huge mistake in the past by keeping things from you. Had I told you about Tom Riddle long ago, you might not have become a Death Eater.”

“But if I hadn’t been a Death Eater, I wouldn’t have been at the Hogshead to hear that prophecy, and we never would have known that Lily was in danger.”

Dumbledore smiled sympathetically. “True. Severus, do you think it’s possible for the two of us to set our prior arguments aside, at least for the sake of the larger issue at hand?”

“And for Lily?”

“Yes, for her, too.”

Severus nodded. “Yeah, I think I can do that, sir.”


	32. Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He stared blankly at the newspaper, halfway thinking the words would change and the whole story become a joke or a bad dream. But the words didn’t move. A sickening chill washed through Severus head and heart and body, paralyzing his mind entirely. All he could do was sit in his office, frozen, barely able to breathe as the colour drained from his face, leaving him shaking and nearly faint with grief._
> 
>  
> 
> _Where were the tears of sorrow, of incalculable loss? Where was the morbid pathos he should have felt just then? Lily was dead. Lily Evans was dead. Lily…Potter was dead, all for her son, all for her own cause. Gone, forever. Severus sat and stared and uttered not a sound._

_Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self-chosen snare,_  
Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scattered thought;  
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care;  
Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought;  
Desire, desire ! I have too dearly bought,  
With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware;  
Too long, too long, asleep thou hast me brought,  
Who shouldst my mind to higher things prepare.  
But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought;  
In vain thou madest me to vain things aspire;  
In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire;  
For virtue hath this better lesson taught,—  
Within myself to seek my only hire,  
Desiring nought but how to kill desire. 

_— Sir Phillip Sidney_

* * * * *

He struggled with authority.

It was one thing to talk big in front of the Dark Lord and the organisation, just in order to look like a big-shot, but to try and command respect and attention from a group of rowdy teenagers who saw him as just another teacher was a serious problem. Severus at first tried tyranny, but they rebelled. Then he tried permissiveness, but they took advantage. Then he tried the hands-off approach, where he set them directions, gave them strict deadlines and would only help those who asked. That wasn’t too bad, except that too many students started melting too many cauldrons.

He’d need something new.

After about four months of fruitless efforts to establish some measure of authority in the classroom, Severus finally realised that a good measure of fear, tempered with a modicum of justice and fairness would actually work—it was how Professor McGonagall had conducted her classes, and though she was head of Gryffindor House, Severus had always respected her professionalism. She would be his new model, but in his own way. Severus couldn’t quite stomach being overly good-natured to anyone—it just wasn’t in him to be buddy-buddy with people, including those he loved. Thus, he decided to comport himself as a fair-minded tyrant, ready to reward good scholarship and eager to ridicule laziness or shoddy work.

Yes. That would do. It was perfect.

That didn’t entirely take away from his current problem with the siblings and children of his fellow associates in the organisation. Though Severus determined to follow Dumbledore’s directive about how to present himself to nearly everyone at the school, that did not take away from how to deal with this select group of Slytherins. Thus, Severus decided to take things into his own hands and flex his Death Eater muscle, confident that they would comply with his demands. He gathered all thirteen of them, Jazmine Goyle included, in his office, safe under the Muffliato charm.

“Now then,” he started sternly, “I am sure that you all are fully aware of my association within the organisation, correct?”

“My uncle says you’re amazing!” piped up Alexei Dolohov, an eager Third Year. “He said you kill without mercy!”

The others threw each other looks of wonderment mingled with…was it fear? Severus hoped so.

“And if you start spreading gossip like that about, you do the Dark Lord no good service,” Severus seethed. “If I should hear a single word about my role from anyone at this school, the Dark Lord shall know it, and as you likely know, he does not show mercy to traitors. Is that clear?”

The group shuddered at the word “traitors” and nodded. “Yes sir,” they replied in unison. But then, Jazmine threw him a kittenish look, which infuriated Severus.

He allowed the others to leave, but he kept her behind.

“Yes, uh…sir?” she asked coyly, twirling a lock of her hair playfully. She licked her lips.

Severus glared at her. “Jaz, I am absolutely serious about what I just said. Get it?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, sure, Sev.”

“For the last time, you will address me as Professor, not as Sev!” He put an arm around her slender shoulders just then, beckoning her to draw closer, which she eagerly did. “I know forms of the Cruciatus Curse that will make you beg for death, little girl, and if you think I won’t use it on you, then you are sorely mistaken.”

Jaz grew pale as tears formed in her eyes. “I…I won’t say a word, Professor. Honest!”

“Good. Now get out.”

* * * * *

Before he knew it, his first year as Potions master came to an end, and in some strange way, Severus felt a bit sad. While he hadn’t grown close to a single student or colleague, he had grown used to the pattern of instruction, study and even grading terrible Potions essays. He liked the structure of his new life, and he felt that for the first time in years he could relax, knowing that he didn’t face the daily demands of murder or chaos or manipulation. He gave his reports to the Dark Lord monthly, feeding him information that Dumbledore wanted him to know, using Occlumency at even greater levels than ever before.

The sting of guilt had evaporated, too.

Plus, he had an office now. No longer did he have to sequester himself in his old corner of the Library. Now, Severus could lock the door behind him, and though the office was a bit dank and dark, he took comfort in the faint light that pillowed the stone room. He could sit for hours and write, read, invent, hide. No one bothered him there, and soon, it became the one place where Severus could relax and not think about politics or loyalties or even about Lily. He could examine the Vampire Stone, plan his lessons and breathe freely.

Summer, by comparison, was complete chaos—though he didn’t have to face teenagers or read essays, it was back to the Death Eaters for Severus. Careful to feed the Dark Lord only what Dumbledore wanted him to know, Severus carefully took mental notes about every aspect of the organisation, about the Dark Lord and about the plot to discover the whereabouts of Harry Potter.

So far, Dumbledore had managed to keep them all safe, giving Severus confidence that they would be alright. After all, he had successfully hidden Eileen all this time, so he had no reason to think that the Potters would be anything other than completely safe.

Severus decided to make a trip home, his first visit in a very long time. He remembered what his mother had told him, that the house at Spinner’s End was an investment for the two of them. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he had some duty to visiting the house, even though Eileen was still in hiding—Severus thought that maybe he owed it to her to keep the place up a bit, make sure the front garden was in good repair and the inside dusted and clean. Though he was never very domestic, doing this mundane housework came as a relief to Severus, even if it was only a brief rest.

But quickly it was back to business, back to the Dark Lord’s side, back to Bellatrix and Abraxas and Lucius and Roddy and all the rest. Prior news that the Potters had gone into hiding had made the Dark Lord almost unbearable to endure—his constant orders were to ferret out this child, find the mother, kill the father, kill whoever was protecting them, and so on. There was little other topic of conversation the entire summer, other than the occasional report from Avery and Rosier—the elders, that is—giving statistics on recent Auror killings and muggle deaths. Those reports were the only things keeping the Dark Lord somewhat satisfied.

“It isn’t enough,” he said one night in early August. A select few from the organisation gathered for a summit at Blackstone to strategise about the upcoming months, especially with Severus due to return to Hogwarts soon. “At first, I wanted only the child to die, but as his parents saw fit to disappear and to ridicule my efforts, I cannot allow them to breathe the same air as me.”

Severus gasped, which caused the rest of the party glare at him. He reddened.

“Is there a problem, Severus?” Lucius asked coolly.

“He still has a thing for the mudblood, right?” Bellatrix asked with disgust.

Severus hesitated for a moment, his mind racing for the right words to prevent him from losing absolutely everything just then.

“Severus?” the Dark Lord asked menacingly. “Would you endeavour to save a mudblood and her blood-traitor husband despite my orders? Is this what I’m hearing?”

“No, sir,” Severus replied quickly. “But I think we must be reasonable here before we act.”

“How dare you!” Bellatrix screeched. “How dare you call the Dark Lord unreasonable!”

“I am not saying that at all!” he shot back.

“Then what are you suggesting, Severus?” the Dark Lord asked indignantly. “Perhaps I made an error by putting you too close to Dumbledore and his influence.”

“No sir, you made no error!” Severus replied. “My loyalty is safe with you, sir, always! My concern is simply this, that the Potters are merely acting as Walburga or Abraxas or any other responsible parent would, to protect their child. We need to think around them, therefore, so that we can achieve our goal of vanquishing the enemy but…”

“Humanely?” Bellatrix snorted.

Severus sighed impatiently. “Bellatrix, though I realise that you are a psychotic sadist whose main interest is in robbing people of their lives, it is my belief that the Dark Lord is more politic than that. He has not lowered himself to your base level of crass enjoyment, and as we know…” he added, nodding towards the Dark Lord, “…he is very focused in what he wants and in how best to serve this great cause.”

The Dark Lord smirked. “My goodness, Severus, where would I be if I didn’t have you vouching for my strong moral character?” He laughed—the others followed instantly. “But your point is well taken, Severus. We must not, as the saying goes, overplay our hand. That will only give the Ministry good reason to militate further against us.” He nodded resolutely. “You have done well, Severus. You have shown me the value of discretion, and for that I am truly appreciative. The child shall die, to be sure, and we shall do our best to spare the mother and father.”

Severus could only hope the Dark Lord would keep his word. He wanted to believe it more than anything, but in his quieter moments, Severus wasn’t so sure. He wished desperately that he knew where Lily was so he could abscond with her, leaving James and Harry to their fate—but what would that prove? Severus respected Lily too much to do that to her, though he was overwhelmed by the idea of taking her to himself entirely. But if she grieved for her husband and child, then what good was it to be with her?

He sighed heavily. She had to live. She had to.

Soon enough, the summer came to an end and it was back to Hogwarts with Severus. The plan was the same—spy against Dumbledore, give monthly reports and don’t ask the Dark Lord obtrusive and inappropriate questions. The one question that burned in Severus’ mind, of course, was regarding the Potters. In his October meeting with the Dark Lord, Severus found out that he had a new weapon which would be extremely effective in finding the Potters and killing the child. The problem was that the Dark Lord wouldn’t explain what this weapon was, and Severus wasn’t allowed to ask.

“Whatever you hear in the _Daily Prophet_ , Severus,” the Dark Lord said, “you are NOT to leave your post at Hogwarts. You are to gather every scrap of information on Dumbledore and be prepared to report them straight to me in mid-November. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

* * * * *

For three weeks he heard nothing. Severus taught his lessons, conferenced with Dumbledore and waited. Even Dumbledore refused to give him any information, which made Severus even more agitated. Something was going down—he was sure of it. He could smell it in the air, feel it in the wildly shifting magical energy every time he came near Dumbledore these days.

And then Dumbledore was gone. For three painfully long days, Severus heard not a word from Dumbledore, nor from Minerva McGonagall, nor even from the oaf, Rubeus Hagrid. No one knew where they had all gone, nor when they would return. All Severus knew was that the students had no clue that anything might be happening. Should he use his position to keep them calm? Should he leave the school to find out more? But no. He had been ordered both by the Dark Lord and by Dumbledore to stay right there at Hogwarts, not to move a toe off the grounds.

He felt like he was being gated all over again, but this time he knew that wasn’t so. Severus tried to understand why Dumbledore would want him to remain out of the way, but had no clear answer. He supposed that Dumbledore was afraid he might slip into his old ways and betray him. In truth, Severus wondered that about himself. Though he hated the Dark Lord, he still feared him, and still, unlike Regulus, he wasn’t prepared to give up his life for anyone.

But then, a flurry of news, all at once, like a tsunami.

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED IS DEAD!!!  
Harry Potter, just 1 year old, miraculously survives the Killing Curse…**

But? What about the family? Severus searched frantically for any news about Lily, feeling the air around him disappear. And then, there it was, right in the centre of Page One of the _Daily Prophet_ in all its grim horror:

_…and though they fought valiantly for the life of their baby son, James and Lily Potter, both aged 21, did not survive the attack. According to first-responders on the scene, Mr. Potter seems to have died first, trying to save the lives of his wife and son. The body of Mrs. Potter was found in the nursery, and the child was taken into protective custody._

_At the same time, Sirius Black, eldest son of the notorious Black family, was arrested on suspicion of the…_

But Severus couldn’t read any further. He stared blankly at the newspaper, halfway thinking the words would change and the whole story become a joke or a bad dream. But the words didn’t move. A sickening chill washed through Severus head and heart and body, paralyzing his mind entirely. All he could do was sit in his office, frozen, barely able to breathe as the colour drained from his face, leaving him shaking and nearly faint with grief.

Where were the tears of sorrow, of incalculable loss? Where was the morbid pathos he should have felt just then? Lily was dead. Lily Evans was dead. Lily…Potter was dead, all for her son, all for her own cause. Gone, forever. Severus sat and stared and uttered not a sound.

The light from outside softened, and eventually, Severus could faintly hear the sounds of celebration rushing past his door and from the floors above. The entire castle pulsated with joy as the cloud of terror lifted from above, letting the light of freedom shine down on everyone. Students cheered and shouted and screamed, ran about, played games, hollered to the rooftops with rejoicing. The Dark Lord was dead.

Lily was dead.

He didn’t hear the door of his office open, and he barely felt the presence of another. It was only when Dumbledore placed a hand on Severus’ still shoulder, with all its interfering warmth, that Severus moved. The stone within him crumbled cruelly, and before he could stop himself, Severus had dissolved into bitter tears. Dumbledore sat next to him and let him weep.

“Did you see her?” Severus finally said, desperate to regain control of himself.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I saw them both.”

Severus wept again. “What happened?” he cried. “I thought she was safe! You said she was safe!”

“I thought she was, too, Severus. I think you know what happened. Somehow, Voldemort found out where they were.”

“But the Fidelius Charm! They were protected by the Fidelius Charm! You said they wouldn’t be discovered!”

“I’m sure you know that Sirius Black was arrested last night.”

Severus shook his head. “But that’s not right,” he said through new tears. “Are you telling me he betrayed his own friends?”

“He allegedly killed several muggles and…Peter Pettigrew. You remember him, don’t you?”

Severus remembered him very well. “He was sort of a hanger-on. He used to watch Regulus a lot. I figured he…well, I’m not really sure.”

“I had urged James and Lily to use Sirius as their Secret-Keeper, and at first, they were all set to go. I can’t think why they changed their minds.”

Severus’ eyes flashed with fury. “Are you telling me that they used Pettigrew?”

Dumbledore’s face fell. “I’m afraid so.”

“Is that why Sirius killed him?”

“I don’t know why Sirius killed him, Severus. The Ministry believes that Sirius is in league with Lord Voldemort.”

Severus couldn’t suppress a bitter laugh. “That’s absurd! You and I both know that’s ridiculous! Don’t you remember what he did to me after Regulus became a Death Eater? He gave up his own family to keep away from the organisation! And besides, I know for a fact that the Dark Lord did not use Sirius.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Can you say the same for Peter Pettigrew?”

“I had no idea!” Severus wailed. He sobbed heavily, his entire body wracked with pain and anguish. “He promised me he would leave them alone! He assured me!”

“In so many words?” Dumbledore asked.

Severus paused, trying now to remember what the Dark Lord had said. _The child shall die, to be sure, and we shall do our best to spare the mother and father_. “I’m such a fool,” Severus wept. “I should have done more! I should have…”

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, cutting across him. “There is nothing you or I could have done. Nothing. Do you understand? Pettigrew saw to that, I’m sad to say. But there is something you and I can both do, and I think you know what that is.”


	33. Epilogue: Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Seeing Harry Potter for the first time was like being run through by a lance. There he was, with the face of James Potter, the same mussed up hair and round spectacles, and yet behind those glasses shone Lily’s eyes, staring now at him like a total stranger. So often and for so long Severus wanted nothing more than to take the boy aside and tell him all the good things he remembered and loved about Lily. He wanted to detect any shred of her kindness in the boy, the slightest sign of familiarity that might help him endure the next few hours._

_Alas, alas, who’s injured by my love?  
What merchant’s ships have my sighs drowned?  
Who says my tears have overflowed his ground?  
When did my colds a forward spring remove?  
When did the heats which my veins fill  
Add one more to the plaguey bill?  
Soldiers find wars, lawyers find out still  
Litigious men, which quarrels move,  
Though she and I do love.  
— from “The Canonization,” by John Donne_

* * * * *

He had done it, for six years, against his will, against his desires, but always for the sake of his best friend. Severus had imposed one restriction on Dumbledore, and only one—to keep his love and affection for Lily a complete secret from the prying, gossiping eyes of the rest of the world. There was only so much his pride could take, and with Lily so horribly and violently gone, ripped from his heart and soul, Severus knew he couldn’t stand up to the scrutiny and wagging tongues of those who didn’t know the first thing about him.

Seeing Harry Potter for the first time was like being run through by a lance. There he was, with the face of James Potter, the same mussed up hair and round spectacles, and yet behind those glasses shone Lily’s eyes, staring now at him like a total stranger. So often and for so long Severus wanted nothing more than to take the boy aside and tell him all the good things he remembered and loved about Lily. He wanted to detect any shred of her kindness in the boy, the slightest sign of familiarity that might help him endure the next few hours.

It was impossible to get beyond the face of his father. It seemed a cruel punishment that James should overshadow Lily in death as well as in life. Just has he had been a stumbling block for him all those years ago, he remained so in the face of his son. And while Severus could see that Harry was little like either of his parents, he could never admit to that to anyone, especially not to Harry. Perhaps that was his one small thimble of power he could still exert over Potter, not to let himself the slightest objective view of Harry. His antipathy kept both of them safe, especially after the Dark Lord returned.

It helped that Harry hated him. Severus thrived on that hatred, in fact, using it always to keep himself at an arm’s length from the boy, giving himself another reason not to look even for a moment at Lily’s eyes.

At times, Severus wondered about himself. He hated to think that he couldn’t seem to move on from Lily’s death or to forgive himself for his own role in everything that happened. Had he resisted the Death Eaters, had he listened to her and to Eileen and to Dumbledore, then maybe things would have been different. To be sure, Lily and Potter would still have gotten married, but, Severus thought, maybe it would have been alright. Maybe he would even have become friends with them, celebrated their love rather than torment himself for his own small-mindedness and colossal ignorance. But there it was. The damage was done.

As often as he thought of Lily, Severus also thought about Regulus—what would he be like now had he lived? Would he have died in the first war anyway? Would he have successfully escaped, run off to Alaska to marry some muggle and live a hidden life? That wound had never quite healed in Severus’ heart, nor had that sharp twinge of guilt he still held onto like a drug. Had he listened to Sirius, maybe both brothers would still be alive. Had he listened to Lily and everyone, maybe Regulus would have had a chance.

It was so hard to know for sure. Sometimes he wondered whether he could ever have an answer to that nagging pain. Severus always hoped that as he watched students come and go from Hogwarts over the years, maybe he could let go of his regrets. But they were too steeped in shame and remorse, too deeply engraved into his soul—no potion, not even Felix Felicis, could take that away.

He felt so stupid.

Over time, Severus knew he had more than made up for his sins. He had humbled himself before Dumbledore over and again, even at the risk of his own life, followed Dumbledore’s every edict like a slave, even when the old man directed Severus to kill him in order to save Lucius’ bratty son, Draco, from becoming a monster. Despite his protests and deep misgivings, he went through with it, holding onto the hope that by doing this terrible thing that somehow, Regulus’ and Lily’s deaths wouldn’t have been in vain. But would it ever be enough?

He hoped for that every day, every hour, every minute. After all, both Regulus and Lily had, in their own way, given Severus what no one else ever did. They had given him respect, dignity and true love, and though he never did get to have his chance with Lily in romance, he always knew that he had never lost her quite completely. Though he had been a Death Eater, Lily treated him well, always with love and friendship. And like a true brother, Regulus had encouraged the very best in Severus. Those were his best memories of his two great loves, the ones that sustained him in his darkest moments of despair and fear. 

That stupid cane. For some reason, Severus had held onto that ostentatiously ornate cane that Regulus had given him so many years ago for his seventeenth birthday. Though Severus never used it, thinking it far too garish for his own Spartan tastes, he could never bring himself to sell it or give it away. Even now, it rested in his office, just to the side of his desk, always in sight. On occasion, Severus picked up the silly object, ran his fingers down the elegant wood and meticulously engraved silver—and then, like a good brother, he would press his lips against it and carefully return it to its resting place.

But Regulus had made an active choice to risk death, something Severus could never admit about Lily. He knew she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and as such, risked certain death every day. She had put her life on the line every time she and James resisted the Dark Lord’s seductions—as with Regulus, it was a conscious choice. Still, Severus wasn’t quite prepared to let her have that choice, and perhaps his one last regret was that he never had a chance to speak to her about it. As unsuccessful as he had been with Regulus, Severus thought, at least he got to have a say, even though Regulus went and did his own thing anyway. Typical Black stubbornness.

What would he have said to Lily? That much Severus didn’t know. He would have to be satisfied with memories.

Thus, just as when they were chasing each other around the Evans’ back garden or playing pranks on Petunia or trading Potions ideas in the Library, Severus could even now feel the hand of Lily’s friendship in his memories. They allowed him, however briefly, to pretend that she somehow never really died, and occasionally it struck Severus that perhaps she didn’t. Like Regulus, Lily Evans had endured, their faces and voices tucked safely into Severus’ mind, always young, always joyful, always alive in his heart.

Always.


End file.
